Dropping Hints
by Driftingthought
Summary: Peter had the chance to tell his father his identity, but he didn't take it. Now he's going to tell Erik no matter what, because, really, a father should know his own son. Nothing will go wrong. Right?
1. Realization

This story is set (mostly) after the events of X-Men: Apocalypse, but makes several references to Days of Future Past as well throughout the story.

I don't own X-Men or any of its franchise.

* * *

 **Dropping Hints**

 _My mom once knew a guy who could do that_ . . .

It hit him. Like a punch from one of the bullies he used to be unable to outrun, it hit Peter. The man he'd saved from the Pentagon was his father. His long-lost dad. The man his mom told him about when he was younger, the man she'd dated that had been able to manipulate metal.

Metal.

And he'd broken him out! He'd stood next to him and held his neck to prevent him from getting whiplash. He'd saved him from non-metal bullets. He'd actually _talked to him!_

This realization was so powerful that the ping pong ball Quicksilver was playing with hit him in the chest. Well, that ended his the one-man game of ping pong. But that wasn't important. This was. Now that he knew who his father was, he was going to find him again. He was going to talk to him, and he was going to tell him the three words he'd always dreamed he'd tell his father.

When Charles had first told him about Erik and his powers, Quicksilver hadn't even made the connection. So excited was he at the thought of breaking into the Pentagon that the words had rolled off him like wind rushing past his body at some infinity miles an hour. But it was true, and after breaking Erik out of prison, it'd taken him a full week to realize it. There was only one man in existence, that he knew of, that could wield metal. His father.

Zipping into his mother's room, he found a picture of Lehn, his mother's nickname for Erik when they'd dated, and Magda on their very first date at the top of a skyscraper. Yup, it was him all right. He looked practically the same, and it was a wonder that with several pictures of Lehn around Peter hadn't realized Erik's identity the moment he'd seen his father's face in prison. Whatever.

Magda still talked about her first date with glee, even after so long. Each time she mentioned it, her face lit up in childlike wonder. It was amazing, she'd said, and she was still unable to shake the feeling of excitement she'd felt after Erik had lifted her to the top of the skyscraper using a nearby metal drainage grate. Granted, after being spotted dining at the top of a building that wasn't meant to accommodate people, police had surrounded them and demanded that they come down.

No, Erik hadn't killed anyone. But he had made it very hard for the officers to wield their weapons. Erik, not threatened at all by half a dozen officers with guns drawn on him, had simply descended with Magda by his side and walked through the line of police cars, holding the guns and bullets at bay with a simple outstretched arm. Magda was smitten. She hadn't cared that he was practically a criminal and defying the law, in fact that was what made him so alluring. That, and the first time that she and Erik met, he'd saved her from a horrific car accident. That had probably helped a bit.

But one night, something had happened. They'd had a huge argument, and Erik had said he was leaving. It was the last night she ever saw him. Of course she couldn't stop him. She hadn't even told him she was pregnant. Some months later, Quicksilver had been born.

This entire story, Peter had sat through. The stories of his father that Magda told him were one of the few things that could cause him to pause and actually listen to his mom for at least five minutes. Usually, he just listened to her for five seconds before continuing on. Five normal seconds, that is. Which for his super speed time, was about four or so hours. It was a long talk.

It wasn't that he didn't love his mother, though. He did. In fact, two years ago for Mother's Day, he'd overheard Magda talking to his sister that she wanted a special necklace. So, naturally, he'd gotten it for her. By then it was second nature for him to race into any building, grab whatever he wanted, and race out. She hadn't been happy, though. When he'd presented her with her Mother's Day present, she'd demanded that he take it back. So, begrudgingly, he had. So much for a happy Mother's Day.

He was so distraught at the rejection of his present that Peter had even considered getting a job in order to pay for the necklace that Magda wanted. No, way. The only way Peter wanted to work was with his super speed. That didn't sit well with other, normal-speed people.

Peter sat down on his bed with a popsicle in his hand, mulling it over a bit. His father's identity was no longer a secret to him. Talk about ironic that a simple jaunt into the Pentagon would result in his locating the one man he'd always asked his mom about when he was younger. It was funny, though. He'd seen his father on TV before. Television specials aired every so often about the infamous mutant who'd murdered Kennedy. That was what'd gotten Erik into the Pentagon in the first place, but Peter hadn't made the connection throughout the years that this man was his father. Magda had never told him, and maybe that was why Peter never figured it out. Only after Peter broke into, and out of, the Pentagon had he realized the truth. And now that he knew who his father was, Peter could search for him. He could now find and talk to him.

As Peter obtained another five popsicles and returned to his room, he began thinking back to four years ago when his powers had first emerged. With hindsight, it was awesome to have the power of super speed, but in actuality when his powers had come about, they'd caused him quite a bit of trouble he hadn't counted on . . .


	2. A Speedster

_Late_. _Peter was always late_. _It was probably just his luck in life_.

 _Rushing through the hallway, Peter raced against the clock to get to his class on time_. _He wasn't going to make it_. _He was going to get detention again and then his mom would show up and —_

 _The sweep under his legs brought Peter down_. _From his position on the ground, Peter heard laughter above him, and he gritted his teeth as he picked up his books and rose to face the school's worst bully_ : _Nicholas_. _To top it all off, Nicholas now had four other guys for backup_. _Peter inspected his usual escape routes and saw that they were currently blocked. Great_. _Now he was_ really _going to be late_. _Peter frowned, more in annoyance than in fear_

 _Nicholas stepped toward him, but Peter stood his ground_. _Other kids would've fallen to their faces and begged not to be beaten up, but not Peter_. _He was much too stubborn for that_. _He didn't grovel or whimper_. _Sure, he protected himself as best he could, and he'd escaped as often as possible when the situation allowed it, but when he was pushed into a corner, Peter never cried out for mercy_. _He'd rather take a beating straight on with no fear_. _Or at least, no outward display of fear_. _And that he had, several times before when escape wasn't an option_. _Yeah, it hurt_. _But his large amount of pride in his small amount of body had stayed intact throughout all his beatings_. _"Why are you guys here?"_

" _I wanted the answer to question five," Nicholas said, snorting_. _"Why do you think we're here, stupid?"_

" _I have class_. _I'm late," Peter said_.

" _Do you think I care?"_

 _Peter stepped backward, looking left and right for a way to escape. Usually he could avoid this situation just by getting away, but now he saw that the other four boys were flanking him on the left and right and preventing his escape_. _He was trapped_. _This was going to hurt_. _A lot_. _"Go pick on someone your own size," Peter muttered, bracing himself to flee at the next opportunity_.

" _But your size is much better_. _How old are you, anyway? Eight?"_

" _Twelve," Peter growled_.

" _You're pretty skinny for twelve," Nicholas laughed_.

" _And you're pretty fat for fourteen," Peter shot back_.

 _Nicholas's eyes flashed_. _"Now you're going to get it, stupid_. _"_

 _Peter knew he wasn't stupid_. _Sure, he pushed his boundaries every so often_. _But he wasn't stupid_. _"I know you are, but what am I?"_

 _Nicholas's eyes narrowed_. _"I'll put you in the hospital for that_. _Too bad you won't be able to run home to your_ daddy _when I'm through with you_. _"_

 _The words struck Peter much deeper than he would've ever let on_. _Blinking hard, Peter rushed Nicholas_. _He didn't care that Nicholas had both a foot on him and fifty pounds_. _He didn't care that it was five to one and he was horribly outnumbered_. _All he knew was that Nicholas would pay for he'd said_. _He wanted Nicholas to hurt as he did_. _But Nicholas just laughed and pushed Peter back_. _Peter crouched against the locker he'd been pushed against, but his eyes were fiery with anger as Nicholas approached_.

" _How would you like a broken_. . . _everything?" Nicholas asked quietly, raising his fist_.

 _Peter saw the punch coming_. _As he heard the fist drawing near, Peter's hands went to his face and he closed his eyes_. _He waited for the impact_. _And waited_. _When Peter next opened his eyes, he was confused to see that Nicholas had frozen in his spot_. _His punch was halfway to_

 _Peter but wasn't moving_. _What was going on?_

 _Peter stood up and easily moved out of Nicholas's way, then looked at the other four bullies who were also in the process of attacking him_. _Two of them were proceeding to kick him, and the other two had their fists raised_. _Their facial expressions had been frozen also_. _Peter couldn't help laughing at this_.

 _But what was going on? Had time stopped? Was he now stuck in a world where everything was frozen? Well, no matter_. _Even if he was stuck like this for the rest of his life, he'd still get revenge on the one bully who'd made his life torture_. _And he'd also show a thing or two to the other four_. _Walking up to each of the bullies, he punched each of them to teach them a lesson_. _He got two in the face and two in the stomach before turning to Nicholas_. _Peter stuck his tongue out at Nicholas before getting down to business of dosing out a good helping of revenge_. _Cracking his knuckles with vengeance, Peter punched Nicholas in the face four times, then kicked both of his legs and both of his arms_. _Satisfied now with his performance, Peter stepped backward and sighed_.

 _Then suddenly, time seemed to accelerate_. _In an instant, Peter saw each bully fly off at a couple hundred miles an hour in whatever direction Peter had hit them_. _They slammed into lockers, classroom doors, and water fountains_. _Peter was surprised to see that the two bullies he'd hit in the face now seemed to have both broken jaws and noses, while the other two he'd punched in the stomach seemed to be doubled over in pain and unable to breathe_. _Then he turned to Nicholas, dumbfounded when he was that Nicholas's entire face seemed broken, and every single one of his limbs seemed to be sticking out at odd angles_. _What was going on? What had happened? Had he, Peter, actually done these things?_

 _Upon hearing the screaming, several teachers came out of their classrooms and looked upon the scene in horror_. _A couple hundred classmates left their rooms as well, and when they saw Peter standing up and Nicholas on the ground, everyone began cheering_. _Peter, however, didn't know what to think_. _Should he feel proud that he'd successfully taken down the school's worst bully, or should he be horrified at what he'd just done? What should he do? Suddenly, Peter felt a grip on his arm and he turned and saw a school teacher looking down at him_.

" _What happened?"_

 _Peter shrugged_. _"They were going to beat me up, so I_. . . _fought back_. _" Peter hadn't known what to expect, but the reaction to his words surprised even him_. _Now he was the one who was in trouble_. _But those bullies had been the ones who'd been trying to beat him up! Didn't the teachers know that?! No one, however, who had witnessed the aftermath of the scene listened to his story_. _No one had even seen what'd happened, and after getting three of the five kids Peter had beaten up to the hospital and given the other two time to recover, Peter's mother had been called._

 _He was in trouble_. _Big trouble_.

 _Within thirty minutes, Peter's mom was at the school_. _Within another five minutes, Peter, his mom, and the entire school board all crammed into the principal's office, waiting to hear an explanation_. _Peter shrugged as they all looked at him_.He _hadn't even known what'd happened_. _How was he supposed to tell them? Would they even believe him? He was a bit notorious for lying_. . .

" _Nicholas wanted to fight me," Peter said_. _"I fought back_. _"_

" _You successfully fought off five boys who were twice your size?" the school principal, Randy, asked_.

 _Peter glanced at his mom, who was looking back at him with her arms folded_. _He swallowed and nodded_.

" _And you weren't in possession of any weapons?" one of the teachers asked_.

 _At this, Magda stood up from the chair she'd been sitting at_. _"Those boys all had injuries that looked more like they'd been in a car accident_. _There's no way Peter would've been able to inflict so much damage with either a knife or a gun_. _"_

 _Peter blinked, amazed at his mother's prowess_. _He nodded_.

" _Nevertheless, three boys are now hospitalized," Randy said, staring at Peter_. _"How were you able to pull off such a stunt?"_

 _Peter looked again at his mom who had returned to her seat_. _"Well, right when Nicholas was going to punch me_. . . _he froze_. _"_

 _Randy blinked_. _"He froze?"_

 _Peter nodded_. _"They all did_. _But I was able to move around them really easily_. _It was weird, but while they were all frozen I punched them and I guess I_. . . _really hurt them_. _"_

 _The school board was now staring at him as though he were crazy_. _It reminded Peter of the time he'd knocked over the lamp in his mom's house and he'd blamed it on their cat_. _They didn't have a cat_. _That hadn't gone well_ ; _this was going even worse_.

" _Frozen," Randy repeated, lifting his eyebrows briefly_.

 _Peter shrugged_. _Why had he told the truth? Of course they wouldn't believe him_. _And there hadn't been any witnesses except for the five bullies he'd beaten up_. _They didn't know what had happened, either_.

" _So you managed to stop time?" one of the teachers asked_.

" _No, it was like I was_. . . _moving really fast_. _I think_. _"_

 _Now the entire school board seemed exasperated with his words_. _Peter opened his mouth to say more, but this time he closed it, feeling more and more foolish with each passing second_. _The school board seemed to be debating now, and Peter waited with baited breath to hear the outcome_. _What was going to be his punishment?_

" _Peter Maximoff, you are hereby expelled from this school due to carrying weapons on the premises," Randy said_.

 _Peter blinked, then sputtered_. _"W-what? But I wasn't carrying weapons!"_

" _This is not up for discussion_. _You hospitalized three boys and this sort of violence isn't allowed at our school_. _Besides, if you really are able to run at super speeds as you say, then that makes you a freak_. _We don't allow those kinds in our schools, either_. _"_

" _But_ . . . _" Peter glanced over at his mom, surprised and scared to see that she had risen up in a rage_. _Her mouth had also drawn into a fine line_. _Uh-oh_. _She was really mad_.

" _I'll leave with Peter, then," Madga said, "but let me tell you this"— she jabbed a finger at the school board —"maybe if you kept better control of your students and better reign on your bullies, things like this wouldn't have happened_. _My son does not carry weapons, and you all are fools to blame him with such things_. _Just ask any doctor_. _"_

" _You're calling us liars?" Randy asked_.

 _Magda smiled_. _"It took you that long to realize it?" She turned and grabbed Peter by the wrist_. _"Come on, son_. _We're leaving_. _" Right at the doorway, his mom turned around one last time_. _"And let me tell you this, you bunch of proud, overpaid, heartless jailors_. _My son is_ not _a freak!"_

 _Peter was hauled out of a room of stunned teachers and he and his mom walked through the school hallways to quiet cheering and claps_. _The other kids lined the halls like a parade crowd, still unable to believe that Peter Maximoff himself had singlehandedly taken down the most feared bully of the school. Now he was a celebrity_. _He'd become a celebrity and had been expelled from school all on the same day_. _How depressing was that?_

 _Soon he and his mom were in her car, and Peter turned to his mom_. _He could tell that she was still really mad, but maybe he could say something to soothe her temper_. _"Mom, I'm telling you, they really did freeze and—"_

" _I believe you_. _"_

 _Peter was still talking over her words, and it took him a moment to realize what she'd said_. _He blinked_. _"You do?"_

 _Magda nodded_. _"Peter, I always wondered if you'd turn out like Lehn_. _I was kind of waiting for it, actually_ , _because with a father who wields metal, I just figured that it'd be passed down_. _I was right_. _"_

 _Peter blinked again_. _"You really believe me?"_

" _Yes_. _"_

 _So, out of all the people in the world, at least his mom was on his side_. _That was good_. _"But why can't I do it again? Ever since those bullies, I haven't been able to move really quickly_. _"_

" _Your powers will emerge more strongly the closer you get to puberty," Magda said_. _"At least that's what Lehn told me_. _"_

 _Peter nodded, then remembered one of the last things Randy, the school principal, had said_. _"So, I really am a_. . . _freak?" Instantly, Peter felt his mother's hand on his shoulder_.

" _You are no freak, Peter_. _You are different and wonderful_. _People are just scared of things that they don't understand_. _"_

 _Peter nodded, grinning a bit_. _"So I'm special_. _"_

" _You are_ very _special, Peter_. _"_

 _Well, that was good_. _Special was always better than being usual or normal_.

" _However, I'm going to have to ground you_. _"_

 _Peter's perfect little bubble was shattered in an instant_. _"What? Why?!"_

" _You didn't have to beat up those boys, Peter, but you did_. _You put them in the hospital, and for that, I'm punishing you_. _"_

" _But how was I supposed to know that it would put them in the hospital?"_

" _Peter, you broke practically every bone in Nicholas's body_ ; _it's a wonder he's not in a wheelchair for life_. _That sounds less like self-defense and more like revenge_. _"_

 _Peter opened his mouth to say more, but closed it_. _How was his mother so good?_

" _No television or video games for a week_. _"_

 _Peter shrugged_. _That, he could take_.

" _And no music for a week_. _"_

 _Now_ that _was crossing the line_. _Peter glared over at his mother, about to refuse her conditions, but he knew that this wasn't up for discussion_. _She had turned back to driving and now had her eyes on the road_. _Sulking a bit, Peter's mind drifted back to the bullies and how time had slowed for him_. _If only he could do that now, then he could rescue his music player from the hands of his mother long before she got ahold of it_. _But it was not meant to be_. _Before he could blink, his precious music was gone_.

 _He'd lamented_. _He'd begged, and he'd pouted_. _But the music was gone_. _It was a shame, really_. _His favorite band had just released a new album, and after Magda had bought the album for him yesterday, he was overjoyed at the thought of listening to it_. _Now he'd have to wait a whole seven days! Could he even survive that long?_

" _Peter, come here_. _Someone is here to see you_. _"_

 _Groaning as though he were in dire pain, Peter rolled off his bed and walked upstairs to see who the company was_. _Maybe if he'd been paying more attention, he might've heard the strain in his mother's voice_. _But he noticed nothing, and only after Peter was in the living room did he gasp as he saw three police officers sitting in the living room_. _Instantly, Peter panicked_. _All his normal exit routes were unblocked, so all he had to do was choose one and he'd be out of here_. _His mom, however, was one step ahead of him_. _She put a hand on his arm to prevent him from running, and together they walked into the living room and sat down_. _Peter again inspected his exit routes_. _They were still clear_. _If the situation called for it, he could be out of here in two seconds_.


	3. Out for a Bite

" _Calm down, kid," one officer said_. _"We just want to talk_. _"_

" _You can't put me in jail," Peter said quickly_. _"I didn't do anything wrong_. _Besides, you've got to be eighteen to go to jail_. _"_

" _No one said anything about jail," another officer said_. _"We just want to find out how you were able to take down all those kids by yourself_. _"_

" _I ran really super fast and punched them, and they all got hurt," Peter said_. _"Just like what I told the school_. _"_

" _Are you really telling us the truth?" the first officer asked_.

" _Yes!" Peter shouted, indignant_. _Why did everyone seem to have such difficulty to believe his story?_

 _The police officers all exchanged a look_.

" _Could you demonstrate this_ . . . _super speed for us?"_

 _Peter paused, looking first at his mom then at the officers_. _He got up, paused, then ran around the room once_. _Now the officers were laughing_.

" _Nice speed, kid_. _I think you clocked in at about four miles an hour_. _"_

 _Peter frowned_. _"It was real_. _They all got broken bones_. _"_

" _And you're certain you weren't carrying any weapons?"_

 _Peter thought for a moment, remembering what his mom had said_. _"There's no way I would've been able to inflict so much damage with either a knife or a gun_. _"_

 _The first officer sighed, then made a move to get up_. _"All right_. _Just stay out of trouble, okay, kid? Because if this happens again, we might have to take harsher measures against you_. _Heck, if you're over eighteen, we just might put you in jail_. _Got it?"_

 _Peter nodded_. _The officers left, and only after they were gone did Peter realize that he'd been holding his breath_. _He sighed_. _"Why couldn't I do it, mom?"_

" _You won't be able to use your powers on command for a little while yet_. _I'm not a mutant, so I can't help you there, but I do remember Lehn telling me all about it_. _"_

" _So I need to find my dad?" Peter asked, already excited_. _"Could he help—"_

" _No, Peter," she said, and Peter had never heard her so adamant before_. _"Your dad's a bad guy_. _I don't want you near him_. _Understand?"_

 _Peter shrugged, and nodded_. _Well, maybe after his powers came around for real, then he could go looking for his dad_.

 _After the cops had left, Peter stayed mostly in his bedroom_. _He sulked a bit, quietly singing to himself to pass the time since his music wasn't an option for a few days yet_. _She was probably right, though_. _About grounding him_. _Moms always were_. _But it was still unfair_. _Those bullies would've massacred him! He was just paying them back for everything they'd done! Why was he in trouble for that? Why hadn't the school board believed him? Why hadn't the police officers believed him? He was telling the truth!_

" _Hey, Peter?"_

 _Peter sat up, glancing over at his mom_. _A quiver of excitement ran through him when he saw that his mother held his music player, and he grinned at her without showing his teeth_. _"Yeah?"_

" _I think you've been punished enough," she said, tossing him his precious music_. _"I'm going to the grocery store_. _Want to come?"_

 _Peter licked his lips_. _Twinkies_. _Pizza_. _Soda_. _All manner of unhealthy eatables_. _Of course he wanted to come_. _Peter nodded, then put his headphones on and closed his eyes in bliss_. _Music_. _Food_. _These were the things that made life grand_.

 _Ten minutes later they were at the grocery store, and Peter raced through the store twice, pointing at different foods that he wanted his mother to buy_. _She bought none of them, and when they were at the checkout line, Peter saw his most favorite snack in the whole world_. _Twinkies_. _He tugged on his mom's sleeve so hard that he almost tore it_. _"Please, mom? Please, could you buy me just one box?"_

 _She shook her head_. _"We need to save money for more important stuff, Peter_. _"_

 _Peter frowned_. _Twinkies were important! "Please, mom! Please, please, please_. _"_

" _No_. _"_

" _Come on, mom! Just buy some! Just one box_. _One box_. _Not two_. _Not three_. _One_. _"_

" _No, Peter_. _"_

" _Please! Please, mom! Come on_. _"_

" _Peter, I said no!"_

 _Peter recoiled at his mom's harsh tone_. _Then he sulked_. _Fine_. _No Twinkies_. _He glanced again at his favorite snack as they left the store with their purchases, and the snack was still on his mind as they drove home_. _Peter said nothing to his mother_. _Maybe if he gave her the silent treatment, she'd relent_. _Nope_. _That never worked with her_.

 _Still pouting, Peter spent the rest of the day in his bedroom before getting an idea_. _If he really was able to run super fast, then it stood to reason that he should be able to run into the store, get some Twinkies himself, and leave without getting caught_. _They were only a few dollars, anyway_. _It wasn't that bad_. _His dad had probably done a lot worse_. _Besides, he really wanted those Twinkies_.

 _Resolute in his decision, Peter glanced at the clock and saw that it was exactly eleven at night_. _He sneaked upstairs, saw his mom sitting in the living room with the remote in her hand, then edged past her and out the front door_. _He'd be back in probably twenty minutes_. _Hopefully his mother didn't need him for anything_.

 _Faster than Peter would've expected, he arrived at the grocery store_. _It was open twenty-four, seven, so he simply walked into the store, wondering how fast he'd have to run to get away from the alarms that would go off once he exited the building_. _It was strange, though_. _There didn't seem to any of the normal music over the store's speaker system or the mindless chatter inside the store itself that he was used to_. _Maybe people were just being quiet because it was so late_.

 _Seeing the Twinkies in isle four, Peter raced down the isle and grabbed a box_. _He paused, however, when he saw that a woman was reaching for the very box that he'd picked up_. _She was frozen_. _Blinking, Peter ran around the entire perimeter of the store and saw that everyone in the building was frozen_. _Weird_. _Was there some sort of contest going on, that whoever could stay still the longest won something? Well, no matter_. _He was still getting his Twinkies_.

 _Peter wasn't done yet, though_. _He raced around the store again, laughing at everyone's facial expressions_. _They were doing pretty good_ ; _he couldn't even see them moving_. _Now wanting to have a bit of fun, Peter reached out to touch a young woman on the side of the face then decided against it_. _He didn't want to get in trouble again or hurt anyone_. _Instead, he picked up a cantaloupe and began playing soccer with it_. _He played basketball with a patron's shopping cart and a dozen tomatoes_. _He unclipped the nametag of the checkout lady and clipped it on the shirt of someone else in the store_. _He tied a man's shoelaces together_. _He raced over to the frozen section of the store and consumed an entire gallon of chocolate ice cream while he watched the frozen people remain in their positions_. _Wow, they were good_.

 _Well, he'd gotten what he'd wanted_. _Time to leave_. _Picking up his box of Twinkies and a bottle of soda for the trip home, Peter left the grocery store and sneaked back into his house and down to his bedroom_. _He glanced at the clock and was confused when it still seemed to be eleven at night_. _Whatever_. _His clock was probably broken, anyway_.

 _Tossing his empty soda bottle into the trash, Peter opened his box of Twinkies and happily devoured his entire stash, grinning to himself before lying down and closing his eyes_. _Now he felt much better_.


	4. In Trouble

_Hardly had he closed his eyes, however, when he felt a hand on his arm pull him up from dreamland_. _Peter groaned and opened his eyes to see his mother staring down at him, furious_. _"What'd I do?" Peter asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes_.

" _You know very well what you did," she huffed, dragging him up the stairs_. _Peter was still confused when his mother sat him down in the living room in front of the television, and he watched the screen in uncertainty_.

" _People everywhere are unable to believe what happened yesterday on the corner of seventh and Fardale_. _At exactly eleven o'clock last night, someone walked into the grocery store, damaged several goods, and consumed an entire gallon of ice cream before leaving the store with nothing more than a reportedly missing bottle of soda and a package of Twinkies_. _Over fifty witnesses were in the store at the time, but they report nothing, though one man states that his shoelaces had been tied while the thief was in the store while Anne, the checkout lady, said that somehow her nametag ended up halfway across the store on the chest of a completely different person_. _The country is baffled_. _If anyone has any knowledge of this thief and how he was able to pull off this stunt, please call the police station with any information you might have_. _"_

 _Peter turned back to his mother, swallowing when he saw that she had his empty Twinkie box in her hands_. _She threw it in his face, then inhaled once_. _He was in trouble now_.

" _You stole those Twinkies? Peter, stealing is a crime! What if you'd hurt someone like you did with those bullies?"_

" _I didn't touch anyone!" Peter said_. _"No one was hurt!"_

" _Just because you have the power of super speed, doesn't give you the right to break the law," his mother said_.

" _You wouldn't buy them for me! I begged you!"_

" _And so stealing them was your only other option?"_

" _Mom, I—"_

 _Peter's mother turned away from him_. _She threw her hands into the air_. _"At this rate, you'll turn out just like your father_. _"_

 _Peter recoiled at his mother's words_. _He looked up to his father; how dare she say that! "So that's a bad thing?" he asked bitterly_.

" _Yes, Peter," she said_. _"It's a very bad thing_. _"_

" _So it's bad to be different like me and Dad?" Peter asked, watching his mother's reaction closely_.

" _It's bad to be a villain, Peter," his mom said_.

" _You make it seem like you'd like it better if I was normal," Peter said, clenching his fists_.

" _You're a mutant, Peter! I would!" Then she clapped a hand over her mouth_.

 _But it was too late_. _Peter's eyes widened in shock and hurt_. _"Mutant? So there's a name for people like me to make sure that everyone knows that we're different?!"_

" _Peter," his mother said gently, "I didn't mean that_. _"_

" _But you said it!" Peter yelled, his fists now trembling_. _"Sorry to disappoint you, but I can't change the fact that I'm a freak, okay?! Looks like you're going to have to deal with your crazy mutant son!"_

" _I didn't call you a freak," his mother said_. _"I just said that you shouldn't steal_. _"_

" _That's practically what you said!" Peter said_. _"So what if I'm like my father? What if I want to be?! We're both mutants, you know_. _I can't be normal like you want, so I guess my only other option is to become just like someone you hate!"_

" _Peter, I—"_

 _Peter couldn't take his mother's lecture anymore_. _In an instant, his mother froze, and Peter realized that he was now moving at super speed_. _Sticking his tongue out at his mother, Peter left the room and raced out of the house, passing cars on the streets and people walking by that were frozen just as his mother was_. _Peter ran and ran, blaming his stinging eyes on the wind that raced by him as he continued on_. _Finally, after probably a second or two, Peter became tired of running and decided to return to the house_. _He would admit that stealing was wrong, but his mother had been out of line when he'd practically called him a freak_. _What he really wanted was her apology_. _So, sighing once, Peter turned around and made his way home_. _On the way back, Peter passed a biker with a pair of goggles on, and being very careful not to hurt the biker, Peter took the biker's goggles, placed them over his eyes, and continued back_. _He took his seat back on the couch and waited for his mother to continue moving at normal speed_. _She looked at him then blinked when she saw the goggles on his head_. _She smiled sadly and sighed_.

" _I like being a mutant_. _It's better than being boring," Peter said, adjusting the goggles to his forehead_.

" _There's nothing wrong with being a mutant, Peter_. _I'm sorry I said that_. _Just_. . . _don't steal too much, all right? And please don't become bad and start hurting people_. _"_

 _Peter nodded_. _"Deal_. _So, what do you feel like eating? Chinese? Italian?"_

 _His mother shrugged_. _"Mexican food, I guess_. _"_

" _Great_. _I'll get some_. _"_

" _Pet—"_

 _But Peter was already gone_. _Traveling three hundred miles away, Peter slipped into an authentic Mexican restaurant and took several burritos and a few tacos before returning to home_. _"Here you go_. _"_

 _Magda glanced at the food on the table, then frowned_. _"Take that back, Peter_. _I want you to pay for it."_

" _Those restaurants throw so much food away, anyway, Mom," Peter said, already starting to eat a burrito_.

" _Peter, please_. _"_

 _Peter shrugged_. _"Okay_. _" In a second, he'd raced back to the Mexican restaurant with the food in hand, returning all the food except for the single burrito that he kept for himself_. _There were at least a dozen burritos in the garbage, anyway_. _A single one wouldn't make much difference_. _He ate it on the way back, then zipped into the house and sat at the kitchen table_. _"Done_. _"_

" _Thank you," she said_.

" _No problem," Peter said_. _Hungry again, Peter raced to the fridge and made himself four sandwiches, fried up a pound of bacon, and consumed an entire box of fudge pops by the time his mother blinked_.

" _I think I need to buy more food," she said, laughing a bit when she looked and saw the mess_.

" _No, I'm full," Peter said_.

" _Well, could you please clean up?"_

 _Peter shrugged, then cleaned up the mess in half a second_. _Then, putting his goggles over his eyes and putting his headphones on, Peter raced to the door_. _"I'll be back in a few hours_. _"_

" _Stay out of trouble," his mom said_. _"Be home by six_. _"_

" _I gotta eat dinner, don't I?"_

 _Before his mother could even open her mouth, Peter was gone_. _He raced down the freeway, casually dodging cars in manners that would cause his mother to faint if she could see him_. _But he was a mutant_. _A speedster_. _It was hard to believe that only a week ago he'd been a normal boy_. _Now he could run at some infinity miles an hour and probably even dodge bullets_. _Not that he would ever try that out_. _At least not with his mom present_.

 _Turning off the freeway, Peter raced into the forest, laughing a bit at the frozen animals in the middle of their daily activities_. _Peter, feeling hungry again, was just about to consider getting something to eat when a nearby noise caused him to pause_. _In an instant, he looked in the distance and saw billowing smoke_. _Slightly worried, Peter rushed to the scene to find a man and his wife standing outside a house_. _Firefighters stood all around, and Peter, seeing that the structure was starting to collapse, couldn't help grinning a bit_. _Oh, boy! A challenge!_

 _Cracking his knuckles, Peter put his headphones on, donned a firefighter's coat for good measure, and sped into the building, rushing through the halls in an attempt to find anyone still in the building_. _Going downstairs first, Peter saw a teenage girl running up the stairs with a small dog in her hands, and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her with him and setting her down outside before running back into the house_. _On the top level of the house he found another teenage girl, slightly older than the one before, clutching one leg_. _No wonder she couldn't get out of the house_. _Not with that broken leg_. _Putting the girl's arm over his shoulder Peter proceeded to leave the bedroom when something strange happened_.

 _Suddenly, Peter was able to hear, in addition to his music, screaming and sirens outside_. _He blinked, confused, then began coughing as smoke filled his lungs_. _The teenager he was carrying suddenly became very heavy, and Peter was down in an instant_. _What was going on?!_

 _A support beam fell toward them, and right before Peter and the teenage girl beside him were caught underneath the beam, time stopped again_. _Instantly Peter was up_. _He grabbed the girl again, this time in fireman's carry fashion, and sped out of the building, now wondering if he was putting his life in danger by doing this_. _No matter_ ; _he could get it done_. _Whatever had happened just then probably wouldn't happen again_.

 _Racing into the building a third time, Peter rushed into the mom and dad's bedroom and saw a crib next to their bed_. _Carefully reaching down and picking up the infant, Peter took three steps forward when it suddenly happened again_. _Time slowed down, and Peter coughed once and felt the floor underneath him crumble_. _He protected the infant as best he could as they fell, but right at the moment of impact Peter returned to his normal speedster state_. _He touched the ground with his feet and leaped forward, checking to make sure the infant was all right as he sped out of the building and placed the infant in her mother's arms_.

 _Sweeping through the house one more time, Peter located a cat underneath a sofa and pulled him to safety as well_. _There_. _Done_.


	5. Superhuman

_Peter couldn't help grinning as time slowed down_. _He saw the look of shock on the parents' faces, but as the mother looked at her children and visually counted each one, her face paled_.

" _Christian!" she screamed_.

 _Peter's stomached vaulted with him_. _He'd gotten everyone out! Had he actually missed someone? Racing into the house for the fourth time, Peter swept through every room, thoroughly searching every one before descending into the basement and locating a couch in the corner_. _There was a small hiding spot behind the couch, and this Peter inspected and located Christian in_. _Grabbing him underneath the arms, Peter picked him up and threw a television remote at the window opposite them, shattering the window_. _This window he escaped by, and he was just stepping out of the house when time slowed down and the house behind him collapsed_. _Peter looked at the young Christian in his arms, then smirked as the house fell, casually walking out from behind the house and seeing the mother's look of amazement when he walked forward with her child in his arms_.

 _The parents looked at each other in amazement, staring at Peter as they took Christian from him_. _Finally, the father found his voice_. _"H-how did you do that?"_

 _Peter shrugged, then grinned without showing his teeth_. _"I'm fast_. _"_

" _T-thank you," the mother said_.

 _Peter nodded, then turned to the firefighter who stood nearby without his coat_. _"Thanks for the coat_. _It came in handy_. _"_

 _The firefighter was simply staring at the house with his mouth agape_. _He looked first at Peter, then at the house, then vaguely nodded and took the coat from him_.

 _Peter's stomach complained, and he looked at the collapsed house_. _He could see a refrigerator sticking out from the rubble, and instantly he was digging the fridge out and opening it to see that most of its contents were still intact_. _He pulled out a large roast of beef and consumed it, along with eight chicken legs and an entire liter of root beer_. _Then he raced back to the family with a chicken leg in hand_. _"Thanks for the food," he said, tossing the bones to the ground_.

 _The father blinked and nodded_. _"Kid, who are you?"_

" _Just a guy with a whole lot of energy," Peter said, grinning_.

" _What's your name?" the mother asked_.

" _Peter_. _" Then, bored with the conversation, Peter returned to the fridge and ate the remaining half a chocolate cake and took the apple pie with him as he raced away, now full and happy_. _The people were safe, but even more important was the food_. _The food was great_. _Almost as good as his mom's_.

 _By the time he was home, he'd eaten three-quarters of the apple pie_. _Peter sat in the living room as time returned to normal, and his mother whirled around with a dust mop held like a bat_. _Then she relaxed_. _When she saw the apple pie, however, her eyes narrowed_.

" _Peter, I told you not to steal," she said a bit exasperatedly_.

" _I didn't steal this, Mom," Peter said, taking another bite_. _"I saved a family from a burning building and this was in their fridge_. _"_

 _Magda put a hand on her hip_. _"Really_. _"_

 _Peter blinked, slightly annoyed by her tone_. _"Yes, really! Turn on the television_ ; _they've probably got a news report on it_. _"_

 _After giving him another look, Peter's mom turned on the television and flipped the channel until the image of a collapsed house appeared on the screen_.

" _There it is!" Peter said_.

" _This just in," a male reporter just said, "I'm at the house of the Frost family where a fire just occurred_. _Moments before the house collapsed, a mysterious boy rushed in and saved the day, somehow able to get all four children out of the building a second before the building collapsed_. _Now, we don't know who this amazing boy is, and we don't know how he was able to pull off such a feat, but we know his name is Peter_. _"_

 _Peter smirked at the television as he watched the news report, but his expression faltered when he saw his mom glaring over at him_. _"What?" he asked_. _"I didn't steal anything!"_

" _You could've been_ killed _, Peter!" she yelled, turning off the television and standing in front of him with both hands on her hips_. _"What would I have done if you'd died?"_

" _I didn't die, Mom! I saved everyone! Isn't that good?"_

" _A burning and collapsing building is no place for a twelve-year-old_. _"_

" _I was fine," Peter reiterated_. _"Sure, my powers skipped but—" Instantly Peter clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late_. _His mother's eyes widened_.

" _You were caught in the building without your powers?" she whispered_. _"What were you_ thinking _?! Do you have a death wish? What if you had been caught underneath a support beam or had inhaled too much smoke or had fallen through the floor?!"_

 _Peter recoiled and said nothing more, not wanting to tell her that exactly those three things had almost happened to him_. _He only cowered as his mother continued to berate him_. _It'd been a challenge_. _He'd saved all those people_. _Why was she so mad at him? He was alive, and so were those children_. _That was the important part, right?_

" . . . _recently found out that Jacob suffered minor whiplash from whatever force managed to get him out of the building_. _Reports are speculating that whatever happened to these children, it happened very fast_. _One other child is also suffering from whiplash as well, and this only occurs in high-speed situations such as car accidents and the like_. _"_

 _Magda glanced to the television then glared over at Peter again, and Peter swallowed_. _Oops_. _How was he supposed to know that those guys would suffer whiplash? It was better than being burned alive_.

 _The news report ended, and Magda pinched the bridge of her nose and waved Peter away_. _"Don't try saving people anymore, Peter," she groaned_. _"At least not until your powers come in fully_. _You could've died, you know_. _"_

 _Peter left the living room, smiling a bit as he did_. _But he_ didn't _die_. _That was what made it fun_.

 _Abruptly, the doorbell rang_. _Peter raced to the window to see who it was as Magda answered the door, and he felt a twinge of nervousness inside him when he saw that two police cars now stood outside their house_. _Three police officers stepped into the house, and Magda led them into the living room to sit down_. _Peter stood worriedly as the officers eyed him, but at the same time he felt a little bit smug when he realized that it was the same three officers who'd seen his powers fail the last time they'd come to his house when he'd beaten up Nicholas_. _This time, they wouldn't laugh at him_. _He'd show them up_.

" _Hello again, Peter," the first officer asked_.

" _What's up?" Peter asked_.

" _We recently received word that a kid by the name of Peter singlehandedly saved four children from a collapsing building," he said_. _"Is this true?"_

 _Peter glanced at his mother_. _She nodded, so he nodded_.

" _And so you used your super speed powers?"_

 _Peter shrugged_. _"Yeah_. _I saved them all in less than a second_. _"_

 _Some of the officers were laughing_. _Again_. _It irked Peter, but soon the joke would be on them_. _"So you're super human_. _"_

 _Peter grinned_. _"I am_. _"_

 _Now the officer looked at him with a slight smirk_. _"All right_. _Would you care to demonstrate it for us?"_

 _Peter shrugged_. _"Sure_. _But you won't be able to see me_. _So, what do you want me to get?"_

" _In the police car outside is my speed radar gun_. _Go get it for me—"_

" _You mean this?" Peter asked, returning instantly with the gun in hand and aiming it once at the officers before casually tossing it into the air and then handing it to the officer_.

 _The officers all stared_.

" _H-how did you do that?"_

" _Super speed_. _"_

" _It has to be a magic trick," one of the officers whispered_. _"So, Peter," he said, raising his voice, "could you replicate your trick?"_

" _Duh_. _Of course I could, or else those four guys in the house would be dead_. _"_

" _Then do it again," the officer said_. _"Go to my car and get my pair of handcuffs in the backseat_. _"_

 _Instantly, Peter was back, twirling the handcuffs around one finger_. _He casually tossed them to the officer, but the officer was so stunned that the cuffs simply hit on the chest and fell into his lap_. _The three officers looked at each other and whispered in a huddle for a few moments before pulling away and turning back to Peter_.

" _O-okay," the third officer said, "here's one more test_. _I'll give you five bucks, and I want you to go over to the doughnut shop on Third and Oakwood and get me a caramel glazed doughnut_. _Can you do that?"_

 _Hardly had the officer finished his sentence before Peter took the bill from the officer's hand and raced out the door_. _He got to the shop, picked out a doughnut, and raced behind the cashier's counter and rang the doughnut up himself since he didn't want to wait_. _After getting the proper change, Peter made sure to seal the deal_. _He glanced at leaving customers who had their doughnuts in small bags and got a bag with the store's logo on it for good measure_. _He even got the receipt and stuffed it into the bag with the doughnut_. _Then he was gone and back at the house_. _He held out the doughnut to the officer_.

 _The officer blinked, looked from Peter to the doughnut, then looked again_. _He did this a third time and finally took the bag from Peter's hands, checking the doughnut, the receipt, and the change Peter got before biting into the doughnut and sighing in happiness_.

" _You did it, kid," the officer said, wiping caramel off his upper lip_. _"I don't know how, but it seems like_. . . _man, this is delicious!"_

 _The other officers were still staring at him_. _One had a pad and a pen in his hand to take notes, but the pen fell from his hands as he stared at Peter_.

" _O-our questioning is over," the first officer said, his voice strangely high_. _"We'll leave now and make a report back at the station_. _"_

 _The officers left the house, and Peter laughed a bit as he watched the officers drive away_. _Their expressions had been priceless when he'd shown up with the objects they thought he couldn't get_. _It was hilarious to say the least_. _Beside him, Peter's mother was laughing as well_. _"Their expressions were funny, weren't they?" he asked_.

 _Magda shook her head_. _"It's not that_. _Those officers are fools if they think anyone will believe their story_. _Remember the school board? They wouldn't believe you, either_. _"_

 _Peter blinked, never considering that the police officers' words would be rejected by their superiors_. _"Really?"_

" _Of course, Peter," Magda said_. _"That'd be like saying a normal human being could sprout wings and fly_. _"_

" _That would be cool," Peter said_. _He turned to the front door_. _"I want to follow them_. _"_

 _Magda shrugged_. _"I can't stop you_. _Try not to be seen, and be home for dinner_. _"_

 _Peter nodded and took off, getting to the police station long before the three officers returned_. _He occupied himself by listening to his music and painting the entire police station red, white, and blue with paint that had been disposed of at a nearby recycling center_.

 _Finally, after five whole minutes of waiting, the officers showed up and staggered from their vehicle, not even noticing Peter's new paint job_. _Peter outran them with his eyes closed, and he found a good vantage point and hiding spot inside the police station underneath a desk_. _Several other officers were mulling around, and Peter knew that the other three would at least talk to them a bit before making their report_.

" _You look like you've seen a ghost!" one officer said_.

" _I-it was crazy_. _We went to that kid's house, Peter_. _You remember him, right? Well, he really did it_. _"_

" _Really did what?"_

" _Super speed!" another officer said_. _"He got me this doughnut!"_

 _For a moment, silence_. _Then several officers started laughing_.

" _Are you all crazy, or did you guys just stay up last night playing cards again?"_

" _We're serious! The three of us saw it! He ran outside and got these handcuffs in half a second!"_

 _Peter frowned_. _It'd been one-_ eighth _of a second_. _But he'd let it slide_.

" _Okay, now you three are really pulling our legs_. _If you report with a tale like that, you'll all get fired_. _What really happened?"_

 _Again, a moment of silence_. _Peter wished he could see the conversation, but he stayed hidden where he was instead_. _His mother had told him to not be seen_.

" _I guess, we just went to his house and_. . . _nothing happened_. _"_

" _There's a good man_. _A much more believable story than a speedster_. _" The man snorted_. _"What's next? Somebody who can read minds? Or maybe a guy who controls metal?"_

 _At this, they all laughed_.

" _Soon there'll be guys who can phase through walls," another said_.

" _Oh, I'm scared now_. _" Footsteps neared Peter's location, and Peter panicked_. _"People who run super speed," the officer muttered, "give me a break_. _"_

 _Instantly, Peter was off_. _He raced past all the officers in the building and stood outside, listening once more to the conversation within_.

" _Turn down the air, man! I think I just got hit by a tornado!"_

" _Maybe I really am too tired_. _I thought I just saw a flash of red or something_. _"_

 _Peter looked down at his red Jim Croce shirt and grinned before taking off_. _He was back at his mom's house in a second, and he unceremoniously flopped down in the living room and looked up at his mother, who was sitting on the sofa eating a salad_.

" _You were right, Mom," Peter said, startling her and almost causing her to choke_. _"They didn't believe them_. _"_

 _Magda drank some water before having a coughing bit and blinking tears from her eyes_. _"Would it kill you to knock?" she asked, clutching her chest briefly_.

" _Yup_. _And they didn't believe those guys who said I ran super fast_. _"_

 _His mother rolled her eyes_. _"Well, I figured as much_. _No normal human being would believe that there are speedsters around_. _"_

" _Why not?" Peter asked_.

" _Because so many people are just normal, like me, and it's hard for those normal people to_

 _believe that there are people out there who are_. . . _superhuman_. _"_

" _I'm not superhuman," Peter said_. _"I'm a mutant_. _"_

" _That you are, Peter," Magda said, sighing a bit_.

 _Peter sat up and rocked back and forth on the ground, looking up at his mother_. _"So, could you tell me a story about Dad?"_

 _Magda took another bite of her salad, frowning a bit_. _"Peter, you've heard all those stories about Lehn a hundred times already_. _"_

" _But I like them so much," Peter pouted, his eyes widening_. _"Please?"_

 _Magda looked down at Peter and laughed_. _"All right, Peter_. _"_

 _Peter jumped in joy then raced to the freezer and got himself a gallon of vanilla ice cream to eat while his mother told the story_. _Also feeling like popcorn, Peter popped several envelopes of the stuff, covered the entire mass in butter and salt, and returned to his seat, waiting for his mother to begin_.

 _Magda blinked, then reached down and took a few pieces of popcorn for herself as she began her story_.

" _I was driving to college, when suddenly this semi-truck swung into my lane_. _I knew it was going to hit me, but suddenly my car lifted itself into the air and avoided the accident entirely_. _When my vehicle was set back down, I looked near the highway and saw a young man of about twenty standing there_. _That was Lehn, of course_. _He helped me from my car and introduced himself as Erik_. . . _"_

 _Peter listened to the story with rapt attention, not even wanting to eat popcorn since he might miss his mother's words_. _These stories were so fascinating_. _They were a little bit of insight into the character of a father Peter had never met_. _It made him both happy to hear the stories and depressed that he'd never met Erik_. _But now, that could change. Since Peter was now a speedster, maybe one day soon he could search for and meet his father for real_. _Wouldn't that be awesome?_


	6. A Mutant

_Running, running, and running some more_. _Thirteen-year-old Peter wanted to do nothing else except run across the countryside_. _However, being forced into the car by his mother was absolute torture_. _They were going on a short "vacation" to visit one of her friends five hundred miles away_. _It was a five hour car trip_. _Peter hated it_. _He'd begged his mom to let him get them all there in a second, but she refused after what'd happened the last time he'd moved a bunch of people at super speed_. _She didn't want to suffer whiplash_.

 _So they'd all piled into the car_. _After listening to all his music in about thirty seconds, Peter stared out of the window in boredom_. _What was there to do? Listen to his annoying sisters? Bug his mother? They still had several hours of car trip left, and besides that, he was incredibly hungry_. _He'd stated the fact several times for the past hour, but his mother had ignored him and said that they would stop for lunch in a few hours_. _A few hours?! But he was_ hungry! _A speedster was like a bird_ ; _he needed to eat every hour on the hour or else he'd starve_. _His mother didn't seem to get that_.

" _Please, mom!" Peter begged again_. _"I'm hungry! I need to eat!"_

" _We'll eat in a little bit," she said_.

" _But I'm starving! I want to eat now! Come on, mom! Just a burger or some fries or a pizza! Please!"_

" _Just wait a little longer, Peter," she said, now sounding tired_.

" _Please, mom! Please, I need to eat! I'm going to die!"_

" _You'll be fine, Peter_. _Calm down_. _"_

 _Peter felt horrible_. _Cold sweats ran up his body and the back of his throat was warm as though he were about to be sick_. _Couldn't she see that he was dying? That he was starving? "Mom, please," he groaned_.

 _His mother sighed_. _"Thirty minutes, Peter, all right?"_

 _Peter knew he couldn't wait that long_ ; _he was already starting to see dark spots in front of his vision_. _Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Peter had unbuckled and unrolled his window_. _"I'll be back in a little bit_. _"_

" _Peter!" Mrs. Maximoff screamed_. _She nearly slammed on the brakes, but since they were on the freeway that wasn't an option_. _"Get back in the car!"_

" _Just give me a second," Peter said, crouching in his seat as he readied his spring from the vehicle_. _"I'll be back once I get some food_. _"_

" _You get back in the car this instant or else you're grounded for the next year!" she shouted_.

" _Don't worry, Mom," Peter said, bracing his hands against the windowsill_. _"I'll be fine_. _"_

" _Peter!" she yelled_. _"You—"_

" _Later_. _" Peter leapt out of the car, feeling the wind whip at his clothing as he exited the vehicle_. _However, he hadn't thought to think of the physics behind his motive_. _Despite the fact that he was a mutant, his body wasn't used to being pulled at seventy miles an hour in one direction as he attempted to right his body and hit the ground running_. _He sped up in attempt to defy physics, but this only caused him to fall faster, even as the rest of the world slowed down_. _A scream tore from his throat as he slammed into the pavement, feeling something in his arm snap as he skidded several hundred feet, feeling a burning and immense pain in his back as he slid_. _Finally, after what seemed like a year in his accelerated state, his body came to a stop_. _Before he could even take stock of his situation, Peter inwardly beat himself up_. _His shirt was ruined! And it was his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt, too!_

 _Blinking three times to bring himself back to reality, Peter knew that something was wrong with his body_. _His left arm couldn't move properly, and his back could hardly support him as he sat up_. _Peter, however, didn't have time to dwell on either of these things_. _Instantly, the pain within him caused time to speed up, and Peter barely had time to glance up in terror before he saw a van barreling toward him_. _The vehicle was going to hit him_. _That Peter knew_.

 _Throwing up his hands, Peter screamed, then saw time stop again_. _Never more thankful for his speedy capabilities, Peter slowly got to his feet and surveyed the situation_. _The first people he rescued from the imminent accident were his mother and two younger sisters_. _Remembering the whiplash incident, Peter cradled their bodies and set them down gently before turning back and quickly evacuating the rest of the individuals from their cars_. _After everyone was rescued, Peter flopped down on the side of the highway, clutching his arm_. _However, when a now-unmanned vehicle sped off the highway right toward his mother and sisters, Peter was forced into action yet again, pulling them out of harm's way long before the vehicle even came close to hurting them_. _Finally, the vehicles all crashed into each other, and the rest of the people slammed on the brakes_.

 _Everyone was alive_. _No one had died or gotten injured_. _And he_ still _hadn't gotten anything to eat_. _Time returned to normal, and Peter sat down next to his mother and sisters as they recovered from the near-accident_.

" _Mom, what's wrong with Peter?" Wanda cried_.

 _Magda, blinking once, looked first at Wanda and Polaris to make sure they were all right, then turned to Peter_. _When she saw Peter, she almost passed out_. _"_ Peter _!" she screamed_. _"Oh my, what happened to you?!"_

 _Peter shrugged, aware that his left arm that was sticking out at an odd angle_. _There was a_

 _searing pain in his back and an even worse pain in his stomach_. _Man was he_ hungry! _"I hit the pavement at eighty miles an hour_. _I guess I_. . . _Mom, I'm hungry! Can't we eat something now?"_

" _No_. _We need to get you to a hospital_. _Almost all the skin is gone from your back_. _" Magda looked up, searching for anyone who could help the four of them_. _"We need help, here!" she shouted_.

 _Try as Peter might to force his body back into super speed state, the pain in his back and arm and the hunger in his stomach was too great and he couldn't do it_. _Great, now he was forced to rely on a bunch of snails_. _What if he starved before then? "But, Mom! I'm starving! Please! Please!"_

" _All right!" Magda yelled_. _She looked around, then noticed a potato chip truck about one hundred feet back from their current location_. _Pulling out her wallet, Magda took out all the money she had and ran toward the truck, flagging down the driver who had now gotten out of the vehicle to survey the horrible accident in front of him_.

 _Peter, excited by the prospect of food, was helped to his feet by his two younger sisters and together the three of them followed Magda_.

" . . . _two hundred dollars_. _Could I buy some chips off your truck, please? My son's starving and injured_. _He needs food_. _"_

" _Ma'am, I don't think_ — _"_

"Please. _"_

 _Peter almost laughed_. _It was probably the same technique that she had used on Erik all those years ago_. _But the technique paid off, and soon Peter was surrounded by about one hundred bags of potato chips_. _Grinning over at his mom, Peter devoured the entire stash in half a second, then sat down in satisfaction_.

" _Better?" Magda asked_.

 _Peter nodded_. _He wasn't full exactly, but this would do for the next hour or so_. _Now that the pain in his stomach was gone, the full weight of Peter's back and arm injury hit him, bringing him down_. _Peter blinked several times to stay conscious, then sat up slowly, wondering where the hospital was and if they'd be able to get there in time_.

" _Peter, you're going to be fine," Magda said_.

" _Peter's not going to die, is he, Mom?" Wanda asked_.

 _Peter laughed, but it was a pained laugh_. _"Don't worry, sis," he groaned_. _"Big brother's not going any—" Another wave of pain crashed over Peter, and he closed his eyes tightly_.

" _Peter, stay with me!" Magda shouted_.

" _Don't die, Peter!" Wanda cried_.

 _Peter opened his eyes a bit, surprised to see that Wanda's hands seemed to be glowing with a strange red aura_. _When this aura touched him, he felt rejuvenated, as though he'd been injected with a shot of pure energy_. _Yuck_. _He hated shots_. _Not Peter, or Wanda, or Magda knew what had happened just then, but Peter was certainly thankful for it_. _He felt so much better now_. _Sitting up with a clear head and no longer about to pass out from the pain, Peter carefully stood and looked around_. _"Where's the nearest hospital?" Peter asked_.

" _Fifty miles away," Magda said_. _"Maybe if I flag down one of the drivers we can—"_

" _No need," Peter said, grinning a bit_. _Wow, he felt better_. _Thanks, Wanda_. _"I can get us there in the blink of an eye_. _"_

" _Peter," Magda said, "I don't—"_

 _Time froze_. _Looking at his mom, Peter considered how he would transport her to the hospital without injuring her_. _Well, if whiplash was caused by the neck jerking rapidly in one direction, it stood to reason that he might be able to prevent it by supporting someone's neck_. _Peter left his mom's side for a moment and practiced this technique with several other random people before feeling satisfied and returning to his mom_. _It was now or never_. _Placing a hand behind her neck, Peter sped forward all the way to the doors of the hospital_. _He returned and did this again with Wanda and Polaris alike, then allowed time to slow down_. _He watched them stagger as time returned to normal, surprised by their reactions_.

" _Mom, what's wrong?" Peter asked_.

 _Magda swallowed once, then her body gave a shudder_. _"Told you, I didn't want to—" Magda's body gave a dry heave, then she sat down on the ground and blinked several times before climbing to her feet_. _"I'm not a mutant like you are, Peter," she said hollowly, still recovering_. _"Going at several hundred miles an hour suddenly is something I'm not used to_. _"_

 _Peter blinked_. _He hadn't thought of that before_. _Maybe that's why all the kids he'd evacuated from that house had all started—_

" _Mom, I don't feel so good," Wanda groaned_.

" _None of us do, honey," Magda said_.

 _Peter watched them carefully_. _"You guys_. . . _don't have whiplash, do you?"_

" _Just indigestion," Magda muttered_.

 _Peter grinned_. _His plan had worked!_

" _Now let's get you to the hospital," Magda said once she had recovered_. _The four of them entered the hospital, and the staff nearly had a heart attack when they saw Peter's back_.

 _Magda herself inspected Peter's back along with the staff, and she frowned when she looked at his injury_. _"I must be seeing things_. _Last time I checked, your back looked a lot worse than this_. _"_

" _Really?" Peter said, trying and failing to see the injury_. _"What's it look like? Is there gonna be any scaring?"_

 _Magda shrugged as the workers raced away in panic to alert the staff to the critical situation that had just entered through their doors_. _"Still bad, but not as bad as before_. _It seems to be already one quarter healed_. _"_

 _Peter blinked, then one of the staff forced him to lie down on a gurney that was brought out for him as they traveled toward the emergency room at a run_. _To Peter, however, this was like crawling forward_. _"Why is it healed already?"_

" _Your metabolism is faster than a normal person's," Magda said, running after them and pulling Wanda and Magda with her_. _"When you went into your speedster state, it probably accelerated your healing abilities_. _"_

 _Peter glanced at Wanda, wondering if she had anything to do with it as well, but he said nothing_. _His mother had freaked out enough by the knowledge of one mutant_ ; _she didn't need to know of a possible other_.

" _He needs a blood transfusion stat," one of the nurses said, hooking Peter up to an IV_.

" _The largest part of his wound stretches twelve inches," another nurse said_. _"He's going to need to be placed on heavy antibiotics to keep away infection_. _"_

 _Peter frowned when he saw the nurses swarming around him, caring more about his back than his broken arm as they transferred him to a hospital bed_. _"Could you just set my arm?" he asked_.

" _After that, we need to do a scan for internal injuries and maybe draw some blood_. _"_

 _Peter rolled his eyes_. _If they just set his arm, his metabolism could heal his back for him! Didn't they know that? "Could you please set my arm?" he asked_. _Why was no one listening to him? He turned to his mom, sticking his lip out in a pout_. _"Are they really going to care about my back before my arm?"_

" _It seems so, Peter," Magda said, standing several feet and watching Peter intently_.

 _Peter sighed, feeling his stomach growl again_. _"I'm hungry_. _" Then, at least wanting something to do while the nurses and doctors swarmed around him, Peter pulled his IV out, left the hospital, and raced to a nearby pizza shop, taking seven pizzas and returning to the hospital with only one as he lay back down on the bed_. _The nurses and doctors blinked_. _His mother gave him a stern look, but didn't say anything_.

" _Did you give him that?" one nurse asked_.

" _I_. . . _don't know_. _"_

" _No food allowed, please," one doctor said, reaching out for Peter's precious food_. _Peter instantly dodged the doctor, now standing by the door next to his mom and shoving another pizza slice into his mouth_.

" _Look, I know you guys are the experts here, but I know my own body," Peter said, talking around his full mouth_. _"Look at my back: is it any different?"_

 _One of the doctors blinked after measuring the largest stretch of injury_. _"Four, wait_. _I thought you said it was twelve inches," he said, turning to the nurse_.

" _I_. . . _did_. _"_

" _Now, if you all could just set my arm," Peter said, rushing to the other side of the room and startling the nurse who stood there, "I can be on my merry way_. _All right?"_

" _H-how are you doing that?" a nurse asked_.

 _Peter shrugged_. _"You figure it out_. _" Then he raced back to sit down on the hospital bed and presented his broken arm_. _"If I could do it myself, I would_. _But since I'm not a doctor, I'll just rely on you all_. _Now, could you_ please _set my arm?"_

" _My brother's fast!" Polaris spoke proudly, and the entire hospital staff looked at her before returning to Peter_.

 _Peter grinned at her and nodded, then looked back at the nurses and doctors expectantly_.

" _I-I think that can be arranged," the doctor said, approaching Peter with an almost scared expression_.

 _The doctor took Peter's arm in his hands_. _"It's a complete fracture, all right_. _I'm surprised that it's not compound_. _We'll need to get it x-rayed first, then we can set it and you'll be on your, um, merry way_. _"_

 _Finally able to get things done, Peter followed the doctor's orders without hesitation, but it still took them two whole hours until Peter's arm was set in a cast and he was checked out of the hospital_.

" _Now, Peter," Magda said once they were home courtesy of Peter's speedster capabilities since they would need a new car after the accident it'd been in, "since your arm's broken, I want you resting_. _No more jumping out of cars or rushing into burning buildings_. _"_

 _Peter nodded_. _"All right, Mom_. _" In a flurry of movement, Peter changed into his pajamas which consisted of a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and pants with electric guitars all over them_. _Once that was through, he raced over to the fridge and got the rest fried chicken that was left over from the night previously_. _Then Peter laid down on the couch with an entire liter of soda and a box of Twinkies from his bedroom downstairs_. _He turned on the television and watched the news for a moment before he heard his mother laughing_.

" _If that's what you call resting, Peter," Magda said, "I wonder what would happen if you gave it your all_. _"_

 _Peter grinned at his mom without showing his teeth_. _"I'll take it easy, Mom_. _Don't worry_. _"_

" _If you say so," Magda said, ushering Wanda and Polaris into the kitchen to eat their dinner before joining him in the living room_.

 _Once they joined him, Peter turned off the television and rolled onto his stomach, looking at his mom_. _Wanda and Polaris climbed on top of him and sat on him, but he didn't mind in the slightest_. _"Tell me another story about Dad, Mom_. _"_

 _Magda sighed_. _"Peter, you've heard them all_. _I just told you one yesterday!"_

" _But this is_ today _," Peter said_. _"Wanda, Polaris, don't you want to hear a story, too?" Peter grinned a bit as Polaris and Wanda began to bounce on top of him, but due to his age and mutant powers, he hardly felt a thing_.

" _Mommy, I wanna hear a story about Daddy!" Polaris complained_.

" _Yeah, Mom!" Wanda said, her eyes shining_. _"Please?"_

 _Peter turned back to his mom with a slight smirk_. _There was no way she could turn him down now_.

 _Magda sighed and put her hands up in front of her_. _"All right! Listen_. _" She leaned forward, and Peter, to the best of his abilities, scooted forward as well_. _"I'll never forget the first time Lehn asked me out and took me to the top of a skyscraper_. _Granted, I already knew he had the power to control metal, but that didn't mean I didn't cling to him as we slowly rose higher and higher into the air_. _I felt like I was flying, but of course Lehn didn't let me fall_. _He seemed to have complete mastery over metal, and I still couldn't believe it when our date was interrupted by half a dozen police cars telling us to come down!" She laughed_. _"Imagine the police men's surprise when we actually did descent by nothing more than a metal grate beneath our feet!"_


	7. Brighter Future

Peter laughed as the memories came back, shaking his head as he remembered the look on his mother's face when, at fifteen, he'd come home with an arcade console and a ping pong table all in the same day. Magda had been furious. But what could she do? He'd saved several people on the way home from car accidents and the like; didn't that make up for it? Besides, it'd only been a couple thousand dollars' anyway.

After that, he'd stolen a few more TVs. Some more snacks and paddles for his ping pong table. The police had shown up at his house quite a few more times, but he'd just dodged them and laughed them off. No one would believe their story. He was safe. Sure, he was a thief. But he was a thief who would never be caught.

And it was all thanks to his father. Erik.

He'd actually met him, saved him. His father. The shock hit him. Again. Like, like . . . like that time two years ago when he was fourteen. He'd been running down the freeway, against traffic, of course, when a pretty girl driving had caught his attention. Before he knew it, he'd crashed headlong into a semi-truck. That had _hurt_. Ten times worse than the time he'd jumped out of his mom's car three years ago. No, no one had died. He'd saved the man in the semi-truck and the other people in the cars who were going to collide with said truck. However, that was after he'd broken several bones and scraped nearly all the skin off his upper half. It'd been summer. He was running shirtless. So?

But his legs, his precious legs, had been undamaged. So, he'd saved everyone and raced home to get Wanda's magical help before running to the other side of the country to speed the healing of his upper half. Then he'd returned to his hometown and made his way to the hospital, forcing the nurses and doctors to take care of his broken bones before returning home and telling his mom, who hardly gave his injuries a second glance by now, about his ordeal. He had been getting into quite a few close-calls and scrapes by then.

Within two weeks, Peter was completely healed. There was no scarring, which, for Peter, was a bit disheartening. But he ran during his entire recovery period. He couldn't sit at home.

He couldn't just . . . remain. And it wasn't just about the fact that, while running, the speed his body healed tripled. He had to run; he _needed_ to run. It was what he was made for.

Peter could still remember last year when he'd wanted to run all the way around the world. He'd told his mom, informed her that he'd be gone for a week or so, then had planned out all the places he could eat at along the way. All the stores along his route had pizza and Twinkies; he'd be okay. So he'd stepped out his door, ate another slice of pizza, bade his mother goodbye from the porch, then took off. No more than a second later, he returned to his house. He glanced over at his mother to find her laughing on the porch. Peter was stunned at his own speed. His mother, after recovering from her laughing fit, had said that his speed was obvious to her. After hearing many of the stories he'd told her during his seconds of running, she'd accurately calculated his top speed. To her, it was no surprise, but to him it was beyond amazing. She'd said he'd moved so fast that he looked like a blur of silver. That was the day he got the name Quicksilver.

He was the fastest man alive. Now, with his mutant abilities to back him up, Quicksilver was going to find his father. No matter what his mom told him, about how he was a "bad guy," he needed to find him. Needed to talk to him. It wasn't as if she could stop him, anyway. She couldn't. His sisters wouldn't. He'd already broken into the Pentagon. There was nothing he couldn't do.

However, locating one man in a world of over seven billion people proved to be much harder than Quicksilver anticipated. It was a challenge, sure, but it was a _tough_ challenge. He'd spent his first day travelling through his town and asking everyone he met if they knew of anyone who could manipulate metal. They'd all looked at him like he was crazy, and he'd taken off to another state before doing the same again. Ten thousand times. Ten thousand times ten thousand. He'd sped across the Atlantic Ocean and learned how to say "Do you know a man who can manipulate metal?" in about twenty-five different languages, along with both positive and negative responses.

Japan was out. So was Korea, China, India, and half of Russia. Thailand was a dud. Malaysia, New Zealand, and Australia were out. Even running at super speed, it still took Quicksilver three years to make it through part of China and all the surrounding islands. It took another year to make it through Africa, and nine months to make it through the Middle East, though he spent most of that time saving people from lethal situations. It made Quicksilver quite thankful that he didn't live in Saudi Arabia or Iran.

He stole lots of things, but he also saved people while doing it. He was a villainous hero. Heh. Quicksilver, the villainous hero. He liked it.

After eating another three pizzas, Quicksilver resumed his search. He searched through several of the Pacific Islands before stopping back at his house to check up on his mom and sisters before resuming his search.

It was exhausting. After making it through one-eighth of Europe, Quicksilver paused and did some rapid calculations in his head. If he asked everyone in the world where his father was, and if he took into consideration that only half the population could answer him since the rest would be too young . . . and if that questioning only took a second, it would still take him over one hundred ten years. Man. Maybe it would be better if he just searched the world and _looked_ for a man who resembled his father.

Peter, feeling a bit warm from running so much, decided to stop at a mountain top in order to cool off. What better mountain to do that than Mount Everest? In another blink, Peter was standing on the summit, casually pulling out a stick of gum and chewing on it before he heard something between a gasp and a scream next to him. Glancing over, Peter grinned and casually waved to a team of six who were bundled up so much that Peter couldn't tell if they were human. "Great place to cool off," Peter said, brushing snow off his jacket. "What about you?"

No one responded, and Peter assumed that was because everyone except him had oxygen tanks strapped to their backs. Since this was Peter's first time on Everest, he stayed longer than he usually did, even glancing around and marveling at the view for a millisecond before becoming bored. He could come here later if he really wanted to, but now he had a job to do. "Have fun climbing back down," Peter said. "Later." Then he was gone and searching the rest of Europe.

After that was nearly through, Peter stopped at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a popsicle. He pulled out his Walkman, paused "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," and considered. He'd been everywhere. He'd even hit the research stations in Antarctica. His father had to be somewhere, but _where_? Six whole years later, and Quicksilver was back to where he started. He'd spoken to practically everyone. He'd hit every town. There were no news reports or papers about the infamous criminal Magneto. There hadn't been ever since he'd threatened President Nixon six years earlier.

What was he supposed to do now? Wait? If there was one thing Quicksilver hated, it was waiting. But it seemed like that was his only option. He'd been everywhere and then some. He'd talked to everyone and no one had even hinted that they knew a man who could control metal. There was no way he could talk to or even see his father and not know it; that was certain. But maybe Erik was lying low. He was one of the most dangerous criminals of all time; anyone who threatened one President and killed another naturally was. It made sense that he might hide his powers to protect himself in the meantime. Sure, it was great to be a mutant, but regular folks didn't think so. No one had even thanked him after he'd saved all those people from that bomb in Iraq. They'd been too busy . . . well . . . getting over going about half a million miles an hour. He hadn't stuck around for _that_.

Returning home in the blink of an eye, Quicksilver startled his mother in the kitchen and caused her to drop the batch of cookies she'd made. He wouldn't stand for that. Catching the cookies before they even thought to fall to the ground, Quicksilver took the pan from her, washed it, put it away, painted the house, organized the garage, made his younger sisters beds, and got everyone Chinese food straight from China and gelato straight from Italy. Then he sat on the kitchen countertop with another Twinkie in hand and waited for his mother to stop moving in slow motion.

His mother gasped, looked first at her now-empty hand then at Peter, then gave him a grim smile.

"I couldn't find him," Peter said. "I looked everywhere."

His mother sighed. "It's better this way, Peter. You don't want to find him. He's a criminal."

"I'm a criminal," Peter said.

"No, you're not. You're just a speedster with too much energy. Your father is . . . out of the picture."

"What if I want to be part of his picture?" Peter asked.

"I don't want you hurt."

"I can't get hurt," Peter said.

"Just like that time you slammed into that semi."

"I healed in two weeks."

His mother turned away from him. "No one can stop you, Peter. You know that. If you want to find him, you will. Just be safe, all right?"

Peter smiled without showing his teeth. "I'm never not."

At this, his mom laughed. "I would say have a cookie, but you already ate them all."

"And they were delicious."

"Thanks for the Chinese food."  
"I hope you like the color I painted the house." Barely had Peter saw his mother's look of surprise before he returned to his room and began playing Pac-man. However, his thoughts drifted as he played the game. Where? Where could his father be? He'd searched the entire world. He'd even searched several places twice. He'd also run into a few fellow mutants along the way. That was pretty cool. Telling someone about a guy who could manipulate metal and _not_ have them look at him as though he were crazy. No one had been able to help him, though. Several times he'd considered going to Charles' school for gifted youngsters, but Peter had

decided against it. He didn't need anyone's help. He could do this alone.

The days turned into months, which turned into years. Peter ran and ran and ran some more. But there was no news of Magneto. There were no whispers of a man who could manipulate metal. Nothing. He'd hit so many dead ends that he felt as though he were in an impossible maze.

Then, a glimmer of hope. Peter opened his eyes early one morning and leapt to his feet in anticipation. _Poland_! He could vaguely remember that, during his run through Poland, he'd avoided one town because he'd been hungry and the place he'd stopped at hadn't had the pizza he wanted. So he'd avoided the town and hadn't remembered to go back and ask its population of the existence of a man named Erik who could manipulate metal.

Dressing in half a Quicksilver moment, Peter raced out of his bedroom and grabbed a chicken leg from the fridge on the way out. He arrived in the Polish town of Pruszków within half a second. It was still dark out, but Peter quickly searched the entire town and located a nearby iron foundry where his father probably worked. Of course his father had decided to work at an iron foundry. Metal, iron. Duh.

Looking to the center of town, Peter spotted a group of iron workers congregating in a circle. Even from a quarter mile away, Peter could still hear their conversation. He'd managed to pick of several languages on his trip around the world, and Polish was one of the languages he could now speak with little difficulty.

" . . . it stopped. You all saw it, right?"

"I saw it; I was up above. Henryk put out his hand and stopped the metal from falling. Then it moved to the side and crashed right next to him."

Hope and excitement fell upon Peter, and he rushed over to the group of workers in a second, placing his elbow on the shoulder of one of the workers. This was it! His father was here! Victory! "A guy who can move metal?" he asked, taking one of the other worker's hardhats and placing it on his head. "Are you guys all serious, or did you just not get any sleep last night?"

The workers all started, then looked around, unsure of where Peter had come from and how he'd gotten so close without their notice.  
"Who are you?" one of the workers asked.

"Just passing through," Peter said. The worker who had had his hat taken reached out to Peter, but Peter just laughed and evaded the man, rushing first to a nearby grocery store five hundred miles away to pick up a packet of gum before returning to the group of workers and grinning once at all of them as he put a stick of gum in his mouth. "I'm actually looking for a guy who can wield metal," he said, blowing a bubble. "Do you know where he is?"

Now all the workers were looking at him with distrust. "Why should we tell you about Henryk?"

Quicksilver raced to the other side of the clearing, whistling to grab their attention before racing up to them all. One of the workers was so surprised that he fell over, but Quicksilver caught and righted him long before he even thought to fall to the ground. Well, there was no reason to lie to them. If he really wanted answers, he'd have to be truthful. "Because he's my father."

Now they looked even more distrustful. No matter. He could still search this entire countryside and find his father if things came down to that. However, right as he was considering his next move, one of the workers stepped forward.

"I never knew my father, either," he grunted. The worker looked at his colleagues, then

indicated a direction with a toss of his head. "He lives about ten miles down in the valley, kid. You'd better hurry, though. I think the police are after him."

Quicksilver nodded, then grinned at the worker. "Thanks. Later."

Then he was gone. Within a Quicksilver second, he was at his father's house. He searched the house and found it empty, then went to the fridge and considered. Pulling out a hunk of deer meat and eating it, Quicksilver paused. He'd heard something. Something in the forest.

Dropping his dinner for the first time ever, Quicksilver was off. A great swell of anticipation and excitement welled up in him as he raced through the forest toward the sound he'd heard. This was it. He was going to see his father. Finally, after years of searching, he was going to —

For the only time since his powers had emerged, Quicksilver froze and stared. Several police officers lay on the ground, and nearby, sat a woman and a little girl. They were all dead. Still unable to move from his spot, Quicksilver's mind raced for him, making connections instantly. Erik had saved a man from being crushed. Someone had given Erik away and had told the police that he was a mutant. The police had come. The woman and girl, he assumed Erik's wife and daughter, had . . . then Erik had probably . . .

It was too much to handle. Instantly, Quicksilver turned and heaved once, then fell to his knees and heaved again. Then he was up. He wiped his mouth once, then ran. For the next normal hour, which for him was about one hundred days, he ran. He ran to get away, his Walkman playing, "If I Die Tomorrow," but he always came back to the same forest. To the same spot. Finally, he collapsed again in the forest where his father had previously been. Not because he was tired physically, no, Quicksilver was quite proud of the fact that he could run forever and never tire. It was his emotional exhaustion that brought him down.

He'd been late. He. The Quicksilver. The fastest man in existence. How could he be late? Why hadn't he been here just a few seconds earlier to save everyone? Why hadn't he thought to check here yesterday? Peter, disgusted with himself, lay down on his back and looked up at the sky, thinking of his options. Well, he'd missed his dad by an hour at least. Now he'd either have to search the entire world again. That could take another ten years.

Or . . . he could ask for help. Peter, aware that Charles Xavier and Erik were very close friends, knew that Charles could help him. He stood up, making his decision and nodding to himself to seal the deal. He glanced again at the bodies on the woodland floor, then shuddered once before racing home and pausing with his hand on the doorknob. It was still dark out, but Peter knew he couldn't just leave. He'd have to wake his mother and tell her of his plan so that she wouldn't worry. Shuddering again as he remembered the bodies in Poland, Peter opened the door and walked into the house, entering his mother's bedroom.

"Hey, Mom," Peter said, gently pushing her to wake her up.

Magda sat up with a gasp, blinking and looking around. "Fire?" she muttered. Then she blinked several times, yawned once, and frowned. She opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to pause when she noticed Peter's expression. "Peter, what's wrong?"

Peter shrugged. "I found Dad's house, Mom," he said, surprised at how hollow his voice sounded. "And . . . I think some people found out that he was a mutant so they killed his wife and daughter."

Magda placed both hands over her mouth. "Peter," she whispered.

Peter nodded, pursing his lips. "And there were a few guards there, too."

"Peter, I'm sorry," she whispered. Magda reached out to hug him; Peter simply stood there and didn't respond to her embrace.

"Mom, I'm going after him," Peter said resolutely after she'd let go. "I have to."

"I don't want you hurt," Magda said.

"I told you that I can't—"

"What about the carnage you saw?" Magda asked bitterly. "Isn't that hurting you? Don't you understand, Peter? That's _who your father is_!" Her voice had suddenly risen, and Peter took a step backwards.

"He's my dad, Mom," Peter said.

"Lehn killed the President! He left me!" Magda said, her voice cracking. "How do I know that once you find him, he won't . . . _kill you_?!"

"I'm his son, Mom. I'm too fast for him, anyway."

"Don't do this, Peter," Magda begged.

"I have to," Peter said. "I want to talk to my mutant father."

Magda closed her mouth, sighed, and put her head down. When she looked at him again, her expression was pained. "You're always welcome here, Peter. You know that. You also know that I can't stop you. But please, if you find him, don't tell him about me or Wanda or Polaris. Keep him away from this house. Do you understand?"

"Crystal," Peter said.

Magda nodded. "Goodbye, son. Be safe."

Peter grinned without showing his teeth. "I always am." In a second, Peter was downstairs, eating everything in sight to prepare him for the trip to the Xavier Institute. As he tore open another box of Twinkies, Peter thought about his mother who sat one level above him. It was strange, really. Sometimes, when she told stories, it almost seemed like his mother was still fond of, and infatuated with, Erik. Then, other times, such as now, she seemed to feel nothing more than hatred and fear toward his father.

Peter, however, felt a bit of admiration, a bit of caution, but mostly, nothing. That was going to change, however. He would meet his father for real this time, and he would talk to him for longer than two seconds outside a prison cell. Taking out the last Twinkie and unwrapping it, Peter picked up the Xavier Institute card and raced out the door toward a rising sun and a hopefully brighter future.


	8. Topics of Conversation

Within the last month, it felt to Peter as though he'd lived ten lifetimes already. After getting to the Institute and rescuing nearly all the students from an explosion, a grand adventure had ensued which ended in a showdown between everyone versus Apocalypse. And at the end of it all, Peter still hadn't found the courage within him to tell his father the truth. What was wrong with him? It'd seemed so easy to recite the three simple words from home, but up close and personal was another story.

He'd faced Erik. Seen him, had the chance, then . . . turned away and listened to "Train Kept a Rollin' " instead. He didn't really know his father at all. Not that Erik was really that evil, but how awkward would it be for a random teenage boy to walk up to Erik and declare that he was his son? Wow, great first impression.

Until he had more of Erik's confidence and trust, he'd have to keep a bit of distance. Not that it was physically difficult, though. Erik had disappeared immediately following Apocalypse's defeat. If Peter wanted to find Erik, he'd either have to take up his one-man search again, ask Charles for help, or wait for Erik to return, which was highly unlikely in any circumstance. In truth, Peter would rather wait for Erik to return, since showing up on Erik's doorstep, or lairstep, would raise questions that Peter might be forced to answer, thus revealing his own connections to Erik before either he or Erik was prepared to hear such news.

However, the mental difficulty of keeping such a secret, when Erik had been around, was practically torture. Peter was no mind reader, but he wondered if Charles had been laughing the entire time Peter had attempted to talk to his father to subtly hint at what he assumed was so obvious. Maybe if he could somehow convince Erik of the fact without outrightly telling him, or even make Erik think that he was the only one who knew and Peter himself had no idea, the news would be less . . . shocking.

Which begged the question: did Erik already know? Did he already know that Peter was his son? This also seemed unlikely. Either that, or Erik really did know and just hadn't acted on it yet, similar to Peter himself. Peter didn't think of this a likely possibility, but then again, he still didn't know his father. The man had disappeared before Peter had got the chance. Maybe he knew; maybe he didn't. Inwardly shrugging, Peter assumed that Erik, as of yet, didn't know the truth. With this cornerstone placed in his mind, Peter wondered how Erik would react when he finally told him. That day would soon come. Peter knew it, though he didn't yet know when. How would he react when he finally knew, though? Would he —

"Hey, Speedster! Speed it up!"

So caught up in his thoughts was Peter that he blinked and barely evaded a Sentinel's attack. He sped up, froze time, and raced to the other side of the room to keep the Sentinel's attention.

"Can't hit me," Peter said, dodging another attack and rushing close to the Sentinel before backing off. "No one can. Nope! Missed! Try again!"

The last Sentinel finally fell as Ororo hit him with a lightning bolt. Peter returned to the center of the room as everyone gathered and congratulated one another.

"What was up with _that_ , Pete?" Scott asked. "For a second, it looked like you were running as fast as a guy with a broken leg!"

Peter shrugged. "At least I was focused on the battle and not spending the entire time staring at Red over there," he whispered, jerking his head over in Jean's direction.

Scott blushed fiercely, then stuttered for a few moments before Peter laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Scott's body jolted as Peter's hand landed on him, and with a slight glare Scott walked toward Kurt.

". . . feels like a kettle ball," Scott muttered as he walked away, rubbing his shoulder.

"Nice karate moves, Blue," Peter said, turning to Raven.

Raven glanced his way and nodded, then addressed the rest of them. "Good work, everyone. We're all getting better and working as a team."

"Team of misfits," Peter snorted, picking off a hangnail.

Raven glanced in Peter's direction but didn't say anything. "We'll rest up for today and meet back here tomorrow night to train some more."

Everyone nodded and began to leave the danger room as the doors opened to freedom. Peter stretched, already feeling hungry. "Great job fixing up those robots, Furry!" Peter called out in Hank's direction. Hank nodded and powered down the simulation, walking over to fix the Sentinels they'd destroyed for the next training lesson tomorrow.

Placing his goggles on his head, Peter moved into super speed and dodged around all his teammates, exiting the danger room and already able to taste lunch on his lips. As he exited the room, he glanced over and noticed that Charles was talking to someone he hadn't seen around before. Interest piqued inside Peter. Who was it? They hadn't had a visitor or a new arrival since Peter and a few others joined the team last month. Well, no matter, first he would eat. He would be properly introduced soon enough and — Peter paused and instantly did a double take. Wait a second . . . was that his father?!

Only once before had Peter tripped while in speedster state, and now he was doing it again. That had been when he was thirteen and only going half his current speed. It'd almost put him into a coma them; Peter worried that it would kill him now. Thankfully, right before moment of impact, Peter felt his body stop instantly, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Charles with a hand on his temple, stretching out a hand while Jean did the same. Now on his feet, Peter brushed off his jacket and pretended as though nothing had happened. No! He hadn't tripped! He hadn't! Well, at least he hadn't hit the ground at some fifty million miles an hour. Thankfully.

Peter glanced again to where Charles sat, his breath catching as he realized that it was, indeed, his father. It was! It was Erik! But why was he here? Hadn't he left a month ago? Why was he back?

". . . just couldn't stay away, could you?" Charles asked, withdrawing his hand from his temple after seeing that Peter was no longer in danger.

"You make it seem like I actually want to be here," Erik said.

"No mind control here," Charles said, tapping his temple. "Apparently you came back because you wanted to."

"I came back for a much different reason than you might think, Charles," Erik said. "More necessity than anything else."

"And what exactly was that reason?"

Erik opened his mouth to speak, then glanced around at some six teenagers who stood just inside the danger room and listened in on their conversation, all waiting for Erik to say something. He shook his head.

Seeing an opening, Peter was there in a blink. "Hey, Baldy," Peter said, and Charles frowned a bit at his nickname.

Erik, however, glanced at Charles then began grinning. "Baldy?" he mouthed to Charles.

"Don't ask," Charles said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Peter moved a little closer to Erik, then began to address the both of them. "So, Baldy, what's he doing back? Why are you back? Huh? Did you forget something when you left? Did you just miss all your friends? Did you miss being here? Were you lonely? Is that it? How long are you going to stay? Are you leaving right away, or are you staying for a while?"

Erik blinked a long blink. "Do you have an off switch?"

"Nope," Peter said, exiting in a flash and returning with three chocolate bars from the Institute's kitchen and devouring them in a second. "So why're you back? Why are you here? Come on, tell us! We'll keep it a secret."

"Because I just couldn't stay away," Erik said flatly. Then Erik turned to Charles. "Would you mind a trip to China? Or Antarctica?"

"Trust me, Erik. I've tried," Charles said. "There's no getting away from this kid."

"It was worth a try." Erik turned back to Peter. "So, do you give everyone nicknames?"

"Yup. I'm Peter, alias Quicksilver. That's Red, Shades, Blue, Furry, Static, Circus, and Baldy."

"I like the nickname Baldy," Erik said, glancing at Charles. "I think I'll start using it myself."

"Very funny, Screw," Charles said.

"Touché."

"So what would you call Erik, Peter?" Charles asked.

"D—" Peter, thankful that his super speed allowed his mind to think faster than his mouth,

clicked his teeth shut and said no more. Wow, that had been close. He looked at Charles and Erik, who were both waiting for his response. Peter shrugged. "I'm starving; I'm gonna go get something to eat. See you, Baldy. Later, Magnet." As Peter rushed away, the continuation of Charles' and Erik's conversation met his ears.

"At least it's better than Baldy," Erik said.

"Shut up."

Peter, in the kitchen now, made himself some popcorn before returning to just outside the danger room and watched as Erik and Charles walked away to continue their now-private conversation.

"So, that guy's really your father?" Scott whispered.

Peter, pausing with a handful of popcorn in his fist, turned and glared at Scott. "Who told you that? The only one I told was Blue."

Scott blinked at Peter's harsh stare. "I didn't—"

"I just told Hank and Ororo," Raven said.

"I told Scott," Hank said, shrugging. "My bad."

Jean nodded, and Peter, glancing at the rest of the team, realized that his secret was out. Great, now everyone knew.

Kurt, however, gasped. "Peter! Vat man is your—"

Peter was there in an instant, placing a hand over Nightcrawler's mouth. "Shut up, Circus," he muttered. "Do you want him to know?"

Nightcrawler teleported several feet away and nodded once, then Peter released him. "You mean you haf not told him?"

"Of course not," Peter said.

Kurt blinked in astonishment. "Vhy?"

Peter shrugged. He needed to gain some of trust first. Then hopefully the truth wouldn't be as shocking as it seemed. "I will soon. But for now, I don't want anyone to tell him for me. Got it?"

"What would happen, Pete?" Scott asked. "If he really did know, it wouldn't be that big of a deal, would it?"

Peter rushed Scott, and within a blink he was only an inch away from Scott's face. Scott gasped and took a step backward. "I'm serious," he growled. "No one except for me is allowed to tell him. He's my dad. This is _my business_. Understand? Well? Understand?"

"Yeah," Scott said, pushing Peter away. "I got it."

Everyone else was nodding.

"We won't say a word," Raven said.

Peter nodded. "Good." Then, realizing that he couldn't hear Charles' and Erik's conversation any more, Peter took off down the hallway Charles and Erik had gone. He wanted to do a bit of snooping and find out the real reason why Erik had returned, and listening in on their conversation was the best way to achieve that goal. Why had his father come back, anyway? It had been so sudden and out of the blue. Why now? He hadn't considered it several weeks back after his wife and daughter had . . .

Peter blinked hard, breathed out once, then caught the sound of Erik's voice. He changed directions and approached the closed door of Charles' study, listening to the conversation.

" . . . trouble always seems to find you, Charles. I'm surprised you were able to rebuild the Institute so quickly."

"I could say the same about you. First you threatened the President, then you allied yourself with Apocalypse, now you come back here," Charles said. "I almost wonder if I should board my doors against you."

"That would be something. I see you haven't played chess since I left."

Peter heard Charles laugh.

"No one here even enjoys playing, Erik, much less is actually any good."

For a moment, there was silence, and Peter listened hard for any more conversation or footsteps nearing the door he was behind.

"So, Erik, why did you come back? Was it for Raven?"

Now it was Erik's turn to laugh. "If I'd wanted Mystique, I would've taken her with me when I left, not returned to the Institute to stay."

"So you are staying," Charles said, and Peter picked up on Charles' hardly-veiled excitement.

"Not permanently," Erik said. "This is a temporary arrangement."

"And why are you here?" Charles asked.

Peter heard Erik's footsteps going away from the door.

"I guess I just need time."

"Time for what?" Charles asked.

"Time to . . . figure out if my next move will be checkmate"—Peter heard the scrape of a chess piece being moved—"or something completely different."

"Take all the time you need, old friend," Charles said. "You're always welcome here."

"And yet our world views oppose each other," Erik said. "You want to befriend humans, while I want to show them who is superior."

"There is good within you, Erik. I've seen it."

"And there is evil within us all," Erik said.

Peter heard Erik's footsteps nearing the door, but he was gone long before Erik stepped out of the room. Peter watched his father from a distance while he mulled their conversation over. So Erik needed time. Time for what? Was it really to figure out his next move? Or was it to recover from his wife and daughter's deaths? That had been a month ago, but still. One didn't get over losing those close to them so quickly or easily.

And what was the "checkmate" Erik had been talking about? Was he planning something dangerous just as before when he'd been under Apocalypse, or was it a metaphor for something totally different? And why would he come back if he'd left last month, anyway? It just didn't make sense. Curious to find out both about his father and about the questions that raced through his mind, Peter zipped over to Erik as he walked down the hall, falling into step beside his father and scaring him half to death. He would have to be cautious about the questions he asked, though. If he started bombarding Erik with deep questions about his past, Peter would either blow his cover or turn his father off. He didn't want to do either of those things.

"Hey, Magnet," Peter said. He kept his eyes ahead, only glancing at his father every so often so that he didn't come across as strange. What he really wanted to do was stare straight at his father then look at himself in the mirror to find out if he'd gotten his nose or eyes from Erik. Anything, really. Well, besides his mutant powers.

"Would it kill you to move at normal speed?" Erik asked, clutching his chest.

"Probably."

"Well, it's going to kill me."

Peter laughed, then clapped Erik on the shoulder. "You're cool. I think we're going to be good friends."

"Oh, joy," Erik said, rubbing his shoulder.

"So you bend metal?"

"Yes."

"What's that like?" Peter asked.

"Fabulous."

As they talked, Peter fought to keep his excitement down. Here he was, actually talking to his father! And better still was that they weren't escaping from the Pentagon or another lethal situation. They could actually take their time in the conversation.

Peter, now hungry again, zipped away and returned with a gallon of chocolate ice cream and a spoon. He dug in and ate the entire container in less than ten seconds. "Cool. I'm a speedster."

"Really? I couldn't tell," Erik said, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Yup. I ran around the world once; went to Asia, Europe, and Africa. Saved a bunch of people in Saudi Arabia, too," Peter said, rushing to the kitchen again and obtaining a large bag of potato chips. He offered some to Erik, but Erik refused. "Did you ever travel out of the States?"

"Some."

"And where did you go?" Peter asked.

"Poland."

"Yeah? I've been there a few times. Really pretty. One of my favorite places I visited was Warsaw. Another was Pruszków." Peter glanced over at Erik as he mentioned the second town. Pruszków was the town that Erik had lived in for . . . well, possibly the last ten years. It was the place Peter had visited several weeks back and wished he hadn't.

Peter could see the slight change in Erik's expression as he took the bait. Instantly, Erik glanced over at Peter and frowned. "What were you doing there?"

Peter shrugged. "Looking for someone. I didn't find him, though."

Erik relaxed a bit. "When was this?"

"About a month or so ago. I can't really remember when," Peter lied. He glanced over at Erik. "Why do you ask?"

Erik looked forward again. "I worked there a bit."

Inwardly, Peter wished to fire a barrage of questions at Erik, but he knew how strange and awkward that might become or seem. Instead, he raced away for half a batch of cookies Jean had made yesterday, returning in a blink. "That's nice."

"Yes," Erik said, his teeth now gritted. "It was."

Peter saw that the suit of armor they were passing was starting to crumple, and he quickly changed the subject. "How old were you when your powers emerged?"

Suddenly, the suit of armor behind them flattened completely, and Peter could see the metal support beams of the Institute beginning to poke through the walls themselves and curl inward. Uh-oh. Bad topic.


	9. Something's Up

"I was nine," Erik said stiffly.

Peter quickly turned the subject around. "Really? I was twelve when my powers emerged. There was this guy at my school who wanted to nail me, but I dodged him using my super speed and punched his face three times." Here, Peter laughed. "I think he looks like Frankenstein now." At least the support beams had stopped bending. "My mom actually wasn't that surprised when she found out that I was a mutant. She had a thing with this mutant guy, see, and she'd expected I'd always turn out like him. A mutant."

"Mmm."

Peter rushed away again, returning with another bag of chips. "Sure you don't want any chips?" Peter asked, holding out the bag to him.

Erik gave him a sideways glance. "Do you ever eat anything substantial?"  
Peter shook his head. "Not really."

"Then how do you run on only sweets and chips?" Erik asked.

Peter frowned a bit. Erik accused him of only eating snacks. Well, he'd show _him_ wrong. Zipping away, Peter made himself three hamburgers and returned to Erik's side, holding them up so Erik could see before devouring them and turning back to his stash of chips that he still held in his other hand. "See, I eat normal food, Magnet." He held out the bag of chips to Erik again. "Sure you don't want one?"

Sighing, Erik took a single chip and ate it. "Your name's Peter, right?"

"Yup, that's my name, all right."

"It should be Crazy."

Peter grinned. "Nice nickname, Magnet. I'll consider it." They continued walking, but Peter, desperate to keep the conversation going, asked another question. "So . . . what'd you do for college?"

Erik glanced at him. "Why are you asking me so many questions?"

Peter swallowed, then blinked. "You're the first new mutant here in the last several weeks. We're all just curious, that's all."

"Then where are the rest of your teammates? Raven, Hank, and everyone else?"

Peter worked a fingernail in-between his teeth before pulling his hands away. "They're, uh, eating. I eat much faster than they do. In fact, I should probably go check to see what they're doing. We're supposed to train again in a few minutes. Later." Instantly, Peter was gone. Man, that had been close. Erik had almost cornered him into a conversation where Peter would've been forced to admit why he was asking so many questions. He might be able to blame it on the fact that he was Quicksilver, but still . . .

Now back in front of the danger room, Peter saw that none of his team were present. Next, he

checked the kitchen. Nothing. Then the dining room. Score. He sat down on the couch next to Raven, and she gasped and looked over at him before groaning and falling back into the couch.

"You guys still aren't used to my speed?" Peter asked.

"We never will be," Ororo said, her eyes returning to normal after they flashed white in panic.

"Did you vind out anyving new?" Kurt asked.

"Not really," Peter raced to the kitchen's cupboard, got a pack of gum, and returned to the living room in a blink, chewing on a single stick and throwing the wrapper down in disappointment. "I think he almost caught me. I guess I asked too many questions."

"Hopefully he'll be here long enough for you to tell him the truth," Raven said.

"But he kinda has the habit of not staying in the same place for very long," Peter said, shrugging.

"Kind of like someone else we know," Hank said, glancing over at Peter.

"Yeah, now we know where you get it from," Scott said.

Peter ran across the Atlantic Ocean to China, picked up some Chinese food, and returned in a blink. "What are you talking about?" he asked, digging into the food with chopsticks.

Everyone laughed.

"Yeah, the only time Erik slows down is when he's playing chess," Raven said.

Peter actually paused in the middle of eating and glanced up at this new information. "He plays chess?"

"Oh, yeah," Raven said. "Him and Charles love playing; it's the only thing they do."

Hank nodded. "I don't like chess, so I'm no match for Charles. But Erik, he loves it."

"They're probably playing right now," Raven said.

Peter blinked in thoughtfulness as he finished his Chinese food. So, Erik liked chess. Peter made a mental note of that and moved on. "You think so?"

"I know so," Raven said, sitting back and folding her arms. "I'll bet my mutant powers on it that they're playing chess right now."

Peter raised an eyebrow. He found it hard to believe that Erik and Charles were already playing a friendly game of chess when they seemed to have starkly opposing viewpoints. "I'll take that bet," Peter said, and now everyone was leaning forward. "If I win, you have remain in the form of a toddler for the next twenty-four hours."

"And if I'm right, you can't use any super speed for a full day," Raven said.

"You've got it," Peter said, sealing the deal with a handshake.

"Hope you don't mind living life at the speed of all of us," Raven said.

"I hope you can walk in toddler form," Peter said. In an instant, Peter was off through the mansion to prove Raven wrong and claim his victory. How hilarious would it be for Raven to be stuck in the form of a toddler?

"Your move, Charles."

"Check."

"Are you going easy on me?"

"I never would, old friend."

Peter's stomach dropped as he stopped in the library and found both Erik and Charles immersed in a game of, well . . . dang it!

"Do you need something, Peter?" Charles asked.

Peter frowned. "No," he muttered. "But you two just _had_ to play chess right now, didn't you?" He raced away, sulking a bit, the continuation of their conversation catching up with him a second or two later.

"What was that about?"

"I have no idea. Your move, Erik."

"Fine," Peter said, zipping back into the living room and setting his watch. "No super speed for the next twenty-four hours."

Raven nodded and raised her hand in victory, and the rest of the team cheered. "Actually, make it twelve hours," Raven said, changing her terms. "It wasn't really fair. I've been with Erik much longer than you have. Besides, I think twenty-four hours of no speeding would kill you."

"No, it'd just kill the rest of you," Peter said, grinning. "All right, twelve hours it is." Then he blinked. Raven had been around his father for quite some time; maybe she could clue him into things about his father that he didn't know. "So, Blue, you've hung out with Magnet? How long was that, anyway? How long, huh?"

"About a year," Raven said brusquely.

"A whole year?" Peter asked, already getting excited. "What'd you find out? Anything important?"

Raven shrugged. "Not really. Just . . . yeah, no. Nothing."

Peter's excitement fell. "You were with him a whole year and you didn't find out anything? What were you guys even _doing_?"

At this comment, Raven seemed to blush slightly. "I was working under him. It's not like we sat down, had coffee, and told each other about ourselves."

"Yeah, I think they did more than that," Scott muttered to Kurt, nudging him. Kurt frowned, not understanding, and Hank looked slightly miffed by this. Peter, however, caught Scott's eye and grinned, but Raven gave them both a look which silenced them instantly.

"Vat are you going to do vith the next twelf hours?" Kurt asked.

"Don't know. Probably just survive," Peter said, and everyone laughed.

"You don't think it'll actually . . . do anything to you, right?" Scott asked.

"You mean like make me flip out?" Peter asked. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yeah. Like more than you already are," Scott said, grinning.

"Never gone more than a few minutes without using my powers," Peter said, shrugging. "But don't worry, Shades. If I start to go crazy, I'll make sure to let you know."

"Just great," Scott said.

"If it causes any harm to your body, you can start using your powers early," Raven said. "But"—she pointed at Peter—"you have to prove it to us first. No getting off easily."

"I got it, Blue; got it," Peter said, putting up his hands.

"So, have you talked to Erik about . . . anything important yet?" Ororo asked.

"Nope," Peter said, getting up and slowly walking over to the kitchen to make himself a few hot dogs. "Man, how do you guys do this? Seriously!" he said as, two whole minutes later, he sat down with a dozen hot dogs and began eating. "Living like this is so slow! How can you stand it?"

"Maybe this way you won't freak anyone out," Raven said.

"This is going to be a long half a day," Peter said, taking another bite of a hot dog.

"You were the one who thought you knew Erik better than I did," Raven said, shrugging.

"And I take it Charles is the one who knows Erik the best?"

Everyone nodded. "Definitely," Hank said. "They've been friends for years."

"Yeah," Peter said, starting on his next hot dog. Sheesh, it took forever to eat like a normal person! By the time he finished eating, he'd starve! "They're friends, but they seem to have a really . . . complicated friendship."

"That's what you get when two different viewpoints clash," Raven said. "But they'd still do anything for each other."

"If they didn't kill each other first," Hank muttered.

"They've tried to kill each other?" Peter asked.

"No," Hank said. "But it sometimes seems like they will."

"Same with me and Shades," Peter said, shrugging. "Right, Shades?"

"Shut up," Scott said.

"That's like telling the sun to not rise," Peter said, eating another hot dog. "You only said that my body couldn't move at super speed; you didn't say anything about my mouth."

"Maybe I should've told him that he couldn't talk for the next twelve hours," Raven said.

"Too late! The time's set," Peter said, pointing to his wristwatch.

"Feeling anything yet?" Raven asked.

"I think he's starting to die," Scott said, reaching over to punch Peter on the shoulder. "What do you think, Pete?"

"The only thing I could die from is starvation," Peter said, eating two more hot dogs. "How do you guys eat fast enough to keep up with your metabolism?"

"Our metabolism doesn't allow us to run at a million miles an hour," Jean said.

"Eighty-six," Peter said, eating another hot dog.

"Huh?" Jean asked.

"If I could only run at a million miles an hour, you guys would've died in the mansion's explosion," Peter said, getting up again to get more food. "I run eighty-six million miles an hour."

"Now you haf to run four," Kurt said, grinning and showing a row of pointy teeth.

Peter threw a dirty look back at Kurt as he reached into the freezer for a popsicle. Peter was just closing the freezer when Erik and Charles entered the room with their dinners. Peter, acting quickly, raced over to the couch as fast as his normal-speed state would allow and pushed Scott off the couch to make room for Erik. "Sit somewhere else, Shades," Peter hissed.

Scott made a face before sitting next to Jean on the other couch, and Erik sat next to Peter, not seeming to notice, or just not caring, about the small scuffle that just occurred. Charles placed his wheelchair beside Erik and began eating.

"So," Peter said, "who won the chess game?"

Erik looked up from his plate then turned back to his food, saying nothing.

"I think that answers your question," Charles said.

"Guess you shouldn't play chess with a mind reader, huh, Erik?" Hank asked.

"It does put me at a disadvantage," Erik said blandly.

"I don't read your mind, Erik," Charles said. "I've told you that time and time again."

"Of course you don't," Erik said, rolling his eyes a bit. "And I don't use my powers to stop bullets."

"Just like the bullet you curved into Kennedy," Peter said, finishing his popsicle. "So, Magnet, what was it like killing the President? Did all the secret service guys attack you?"  
"I didn't intentionally murder him. I was trying to save him," Erik said. "It just didn't turn out that way."

Peter blinked. So his father was innocent! He hadn't killed Kennedy! "So they imprisoned and framed you," Peter continued.

"It's a fact that humans are untrustworthy," Erik said.

"Erik," Charles said, "you know that's not true."

"Stop putting words in my mouth, Charles," Erik said.

Peter glanced at Erik and Charles, seeing that Charles fork was starting to bend a bit. "I can agree with that, Magnet," Peter interrupted, stopping the imminent argument as he got up to get another popsicle. "About humans being a bit stupid, I guess. The same thing happened to me when my powers emerged. The school board didn't believe that I hadn't been carrying a weapon when I took down five bullies. I got expelled." Peter sat back down, and he noticed that Charles seemed to be looking sideways at him.

"What was that for?" Charles asked as he continued eating.

"What was what for?" Peter asked.

Charles pointed to the kitchen. "I haven't ever seen you move that slowly. The only time you ever stopped running at super speed was when Apocalypse broke your leg."

Peter gave a halfhearted glare over at Raven. "Me and Blue made a bet." Here, Peter thought he heard Erik laugh a bit. "What's so funny, Magnet?"

"Now you know better," Erik said, glancing over at Raven. "Mystique has tricked me a few times, and now I know better as well. She's brilliant."

Peter thought he saw Raven's blue face turning a bit red at this, but she just coughed and turned away. "So, are you just crashing here for the night?" Peter asked. "Or are you staying for a bit longer? If so, how long? How long, huh? Like a week? A month? A year or longer? Or just a day?"

"I haven't decided," Erik said, "but I might leave now if you don't stop asking me questions."

"Aw, come on, Magnet," Peter said, clapping Erik on the shoulder. "Don't be boring like Baldy. I broke you out of prison, remember?"  
"How could I forget?" Erik asked, jolting slightly from the blow to his shoulder. "That was quite an entrance you made."

"You offend me, Peter," Charles said. "I have been called many things growing up, but boring was never one of them."

"Though he's not wrong," Erik muttered, and it took everything within Peter not to burst out laughing.

"For real, though," Peter said after he'd recovered. "How long are you staying? A long time? Not really? How long?"

"Why do you care?" Erik asked.

Peter swallowed, then glanced over at the rest of the team. They all shrugged, not knowing how to answer Erik's question any better.

"Because tomorrow, all my students are having a go in the danger room," Charles answered. "Would you like to join them?"

Peter let out a small sigh, glad that Charles had answered the question for him.

Erik rolled his eyes. "No thanks, Charles."

"You'll find it much more difficult than you think," Charles said. "I'm quite interested to see how you would perform."

"Child's play is not something I'm interested in."

Instantly, a dark aura fell over Peter and the rest of his team.

"You think the danger room is child's play?" Scott asked. "I almost died in there last week!"

"I could break your neck in a heartbeat if I wanted to," Peter said. "Is that child's play?"

"I placed metal inside the Sentinels' bodies," Erik said, sighing. "It would take me only a second to disable them."

"Hank and I removed that metal in case you decided to return," Charles said, and Erik glanced over at him in surprise. "I'd like to see how you fare with them when no metal is present."

Erik looked sideways at Charles. "You're not letting me get out of this, are you, Charles?"

"You know me too well, Erik."

Erik returned to his plate as he finished eating. After a moment, he spoke again. "When is this training session?"

"Eight in the evening," Raven answered instantly.

Erik nodded. "All right." He took his last bite of food before continuing. "Has Charles been slacking off, or have you seven actually gotten any stronger since I left a month ago?"

"Erik, what do you take me for?" Charles asked.

"You can read my mind," Erik said. "Find out for yourself."

Peter's excitement peaked at the thought of Erik participating in their training session. He'd have to go all out to make sure his father didn't think him childish or weak.

"They've gotten stronger, Erik. I promise you that," Charles said. "You'd be surprised."

"And hopefully not bored," Erik said.

"I think we'll impress you," Peter said, grinning without showing his teeth.

"If you're lucky, I'll stay awake," Erik said.

"Don't worry; we've got a few four leafers on our side," Peter said.

"And several horseshoes," Hank added.

Kurt blinked. "Vat do leaves and horseshoes haf to do vith luck?"

"They're symbols, Kurt," Jean said.

"Like va tattoos on vy skin?" Kurt asked.

Here, everyone laughed. It wasn't _that_ kind of symbol, but they had to admit, Kurt did have a point.


	10. Learning Things

Peter walked down the stairs as he joined the rest of the team for breakfast, sighing as he realized that he still had several hours until he could run again. Though he would tell no one, not being able to use his speed was torture. Twelve hours was quite a long time to not run somewhere or use his speed to get something done faster. In fact, last night at around three, Peter had woken up so hungry that he'd abandoned the dare altogether so he could eat half the food from the mansion's fridge in under ten seconds. He just couldn't eat food that slowly! His body digested it too fast for normal speed to keep up!

Of course, Peter didn't tell anyone this. And he didn't tell anyone how cold he was, either. He hadn't realized that running around at super speed wasn't just fun, it kept him warm. Being unable to run had quickly dropped his body temperature. Hot showers and hot chocolate last night had helped somewhat, but Peter himself couldn't wait until the last hour was up and he could finally run again. It would be his reward; his healing freedom. He absolutely loathed living life in slow motion.

"Good morning, Slowsilver," Scott said, pounding Peter on the back as he entered the kitchen.

Peter glared over at Scott as he made his breakfast beside Raven. She herself had gotten cereal, and Peter, not feeling like going through an odious amount of work required to make himself a traditional breakfast of eggs and bacon, simply grabbed some cereal and milk as well. Just as Raven was walking over to the kitchen table, Nightcrawler appeared right in front of Raven. Startled, Raven jolted.

Peter watched in slow motion as the cereal and milk covered Raven's entire blue form, but he simply shrugged it off before sitting down at the table with his own food.

Raven looked shocked for a moment, then she glared over at Peter. "Peter!" she yelled.

Peter shrugged. "Not my fault. Besides, I can't use my powers until after breakfast, remember, Blue?"

Raven pouted for a moment as she realized that she'd backed herself into a corner.

"Oops," Kurt said. "Sorry, I forgot vat you are startled vy my povers."

Raven rolled her eyes and got a cloth from the kitchen as she attempted to clean herself off. "It's no big deal, Kurt."

"Yeah, Circus," Peter said from the table. "I think it was pretty awesome."

"Is this what Charles has been teaching all of you over the past month?" Erik asked as he walked into the room with a cup of tea. "How to spill food?"

Raven's eyes widened briefly, and she turned away from him, still trying to clean herself off with a cloth. Peter thought he'd seen her face going a bit red, but he couldn't be sure.

"Kurt," Raven muttered as Erik took a seat at the table as well, "teleport me to my room. I need to change."

"Of course," Kurt said. Raven took Kurt's arm, and instantly they disappeared. Erik took another sip of his tea in almost apathy of it all, but Peter glanced over at Scott and exchanged a knowing look with him. Then Jean entered the room with her breakfast, and Peter looked down so she wouldn't see him laughing.

"You've got one more hour, Peter," Jean said as she took her seat.

"She's right about that, Pete," Scott said, stretching a bit and resting his arm on the back of Jean's chair. "You hanging in there?"

"I'm fine, Shades," Peter said, now trying to eat as fast as possible so that his incessant hunger could be stilled.

"So, I'm assuming that Mystique forbid you from using your powers for an entire day," Erik said.

Peter shook his head, taking another large bite of food and swallowing. "Twelve hours." Then he looked over at Scott and Jean. "I'm really hungry, guys. Can't I just speed up to eat? Just once? Or would you rather see me starve? Is that what you want? For real?"

Jean and Scott looked at each other.

"As long as Raven's not here," Jean said, "I guess it's okay."

Scott nodded. "Wouldn't want you to starve, man."

Now free for a moment, Peter consumed the entire box of cereal and the whole gallon of milk in under a second. He devoured three boxes of cinnamon rolls from the fridge as well. Pulling out a dozen eggs, he was just finishing up preparing them and returning to his seat when Raven reappeared with Kurt by her side. Slowing down just enough so Raven wouldn't suspect anything, Peter realized that she had changed her clothes. A different smell hit Peter's nose as he took his first bite of eggs. Wait a second. Was Raven wearing . . . perfume?

Peter couldn't help grinning as he continued eating, but the entire team pretended not to notice as Raven got another bowl of cereal and sat down next to Erik. Except, however, for Hank, who walked into the room a minute later. His nose went up the instant he entered the room, and he paused for a moment.

"Raven," he said. "You smell nice."

Raven looked up at him, then took a bite of cereal and nodded blandly. "Yeah."

"She was covered in milk a few seconds ago," Scott snorted.

Raven gave Scott an exasperated look. "Well, I could see how you like it."

"Hey, soak Kurt!" Scott said. "It was his fault!"

"At least he's not getting after me," Raven said.

"It was a joke!" Scott said.

Raven looked at Erik for a moment. "Not a very funny one," she muttered, returning to her cereal.

Peter glanced over at Erik. He wanted to question him about . . . well, everything, but he didn't know where to begin. He didn't want to be nearly caught as he had yesterday. He had to be careful with both his questions and how he phrased them. "So, everyone, how'd your powers all emerge? What happened?"

"I was fourteen," Hank said. "The football team was ragging on me, so I just reacted. I got expelled from school and chased for the next year by the FBI and the CIA. It was brutal. Only after I managed to control my mutation could me and my parents live in relative safety."

"My powers have been around for as long as I can remember," Raven said. "I was abandoned when I was born, and it was probably because of my . . . . mutation, I guess."

"I thought I was going crazy when I woke up one night and found myself ten feet in the air," Jean said. "I think I was twelve at the time."

"I nearly killed my parents when my powers emerged," Scott said. "I came downstairs for breakfast and blew a hole in the side of my house."

"I grew up in va circus," Kurt said. "I vas also blue from birth."

"My family relied on me to bring rain for their crops," Ororo said. "I became tired of being used and ran away."

Once Peter realized that everyone else had described their power's beginnings, he actually paid attention to what was being said. Everyone was looking at Erik, waiting to hear his side of the story. Peter waited with the most expectancy of all of them. Maybe now he could finally find out a bit about his father that he didn't already know!

"I grew up in Poland. My powers emerged when I was nine," Erik said.

"Wait," Hank said. "Wasn't that in the forties?"

Erik nodded.

Hank blinked. "You . . . were alive during the Holocaust?"

Peter gasped, only making the connection after Hank had stated what should've been so obvious. Of course! His father was, what, fifty? If he'd lived in Poland when he was a child, it stood to reason that he probably would've been in caught in-between such a momentous historical event.

"Yes, I was," Erik said stiffly.

Suddenly, the walls began to rip as support beams poked through and bent downward. Jean screamed, Raven gasped, and nearly everyone began talking at once to calm him down.

"We're training tonight, right, Raven?" Hank asked.

"Yeah, the Sentinels should be really hard to beat this time," Raven said.

"You know, these eggs are delicious," Ororo said.

Jean nodded. "Besides food, we've also got some super fun ping pong, foosball, and an outdoor running track. You should try it sometime, Erik."

"Don't forget about the archery and lake we've got," Scott added.

Peter looked at Erik nervously, surprised to see that he looked incredibly calm despite the fact that he'd nearly demolished the kitchen just a few seconds earlier.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't destroy my Institute, Erik," Charles said, coming into view from a hallway off to their left and taking his hand away from his temple. "It's already been destroyed once."

"I'll keep that in mind," Erik said, finishing his tea and standing up to walk out of the room. Charles, giving the shocked students a slightly apologetic look, was the only one to follow him.

No one else moved from their seats for several moments, and Jean couldn't take her eyes off the metal support beam that stood a few inches away from her and had nearly struck her in the head.

Peter's brain, able to move at super speed even when his body wasn't able to, was already putting the pieces together. His father had lived in Poland. He'd somehow been caught in the middle of the Holocaust. Did that mean his powers had emerged because of some tragedy? It seemed likely considering how much Erik had reacted to the mention of the emergence of his powers. And the Holocaust.

"I can't believe that guy's your dad," Scott whispered after Charles and Erik had left. "Man, I'm glad he's not _my_ father."

Peter blinked, then turned to Scott. "Come on. You got to admit that was awesome. Really awesome. Totally amazingly cool."

Scott stared at Peter. "Yeah, Pete. Having a guy flip and bring the roof down on top of your head really is amazing." He glanced over at Jean, who shrugged.

"Bending metal?" Peter contradicted. "Think of it, Shades. That way, you'd never have to worry about another gun or bullet again. Or a submarine. Or a—"

"But you don't have to worry about those things anyway," Hank said.

"Still. He could make me a car if I wanted him to."

"Now that would be cool," Scott said. "Just make sure he didn't kill you first."

Peter laughed. "Like he could catch me. No one can catch me; that's obvious."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

"Just wait until Blue's challenge is done," Peter said. "Then just see if you can even spot me with those eyes of yours, much less hit me."

"Well, we'll be able to see soon," Jean said. "You've got only five minutes left."

Peter blinked in surprise, then checked his watch and saw that she was right. He made himself another six eggs and returned to the table, checking his watch again.

"Three minutes," Raven said.

"I know, Blue," Peter said. "I've got a watch on, you know." Peter glanced at his watch, and it seemed as though the second hand was moving slower than usual. It hadn't broken, right? Man. Peter had to keep reminding himself that he only had three minutes to go. Just three minutes. One hundred eighty seconds.

"Two minutes," Hank said.

"Got it, Furry," Peter said, now not letting his eyes wander from his watch as he finished his plate of eggs.

"I'm impressed," Scott said. "I didn't think you'd be able to do it."  
Peter smirked a bit. "I'm Quicksilver, Shades. I can do anything. Unlike you."

"Except tell Erik that—"

"Shut up!" Peter said.

"A minute left," Jean said.

Peter nodded. "I know."

Peter began tapping his foot on the floor as he waited in anticipation, mentally counting down the seconds. Twenty. Nineteen . . .

"Fifteen," Jean said.

"Fourteen," Ororo said.

Peter was grinning now as the time was now under ten seconds. Time seemed to slow down, probably because Peter was preparing himself to go into his speedster state. He looked at his watch again. Three, two . . .

Peter's watch beeped. Instantly, everyone froze in the process of yelling, "zero!" Letting out a shout of joy, Peter placed his music into his ears and played, "I'm Free," before he was off. In true Quicksilver nature, he tore through the mansion, racing down the hallway in a spiral fashion and burning marks into the floor, the walls, and the ceiling as he used his mutant ability to its fullest extent. In a blink, he was there and he was gone. Papers flew as he raced by. Carpets were scuffed and bore the black mark of his speed on them. The tornado that was Quicksilver zipped through the mansion, laughing in delight as he was finally able to run again. To do what he'd been made to do. He felt like a rubber band that had been stretched for the last twelve hours and could finally be released.

It was a joy, really. Twelve hours was far too long. Some three years in his super speed state. But now, all was better, because now, he could run. Peter tore through the mansion fifty more times before racing across the world. Man, he'd missed this. Running on water and ocean waves. Running on the Great Wall of China. Racing over Arctic glaciers. Running through the Russian tundra and all the way back to America. Peter felt so much better now. As though he'd been sick and had finally been injected with the cure.

Now recovered from his slight withdrawal brought on by no running for twelve hours, Peter slowed to half his speed as he leapt and bounded across the United States, skipping his way across Pennsylvania as he made it back to New York and the mansion. He felt so much better. So . . . free. Like Quicksilver.


	11. Chess Match

As he ran through the mansion for the hundredth time, Peter saw Erik and Charles in the middle of walking down a hallway. Grinning, he raced up to them and stopped. "Hey, Baldy. Hey, Magnet."

"I see you have your powers back," Erik said, clutching his chest.

"Yup," Peter said, racing away and returning with a sandwich from the kitchen. "It's a rush."

"For everyone in the vicinity," Erik muttered.

"Just got back from Antarctica," Peter said, flicking an ice crystal off his jacket.

"Did you manage to find Santa Clause?" Charles asked.

"Baldy, that's the North Pole," Peter said, rolling his eyes a bit. "Anyway, I saw you two playing chess yesterday. You both like playing chess?"

"We wouldn't play if we didn't like it, Peter," Charles said.

Erik nodded, then glanced at Peter. "Do you play?"

"No, but I can learn."  
Erik smiled and glanced upward. "Sure."  
"I can," Peter reiterated. "While traveling the world, I picked up several different languages. Chinese, Korean, Japanese, French, Polish, and German to name a few. Chess would be a breeze."

Charles looked a bit impressed. "That's more languages that I know. And I read people's minds."

Erik blinked. "You speak Polish and German?"  
"Yes, I do," Peter answered in Polish.

"But how many words do you actually know?" Erik asked in Polish.

"Pretty much all of them," Peter said, switching to German in an instant.

Erik thought for a second. "Maybe you could learn chess," he said in Polish. "If you managed to actually pick up all those languages and aren't just pulling my leg."

"I'm pretty good at picking things up," Peter said in Polish. "Maybe you could teach me."

"Maybe I could."

At this, Peter's heart leaped within him, but he forced his excitement down.

"I didn't know anyone here was multilingual besides Raven and Charles," Erik said, now returning to English.

"Erik, singing karaoke eleven years ago in China doesn't count as multilingual. It doesn't even count as bilingual," Charles said.

"But I _am_ multilingual. I'm not just a speedster," Peter said in Polish. "I'm unique; I'm the only one of my kind."  
"That's a blessing," Erik said. "I think the world would collapse if there were more than one of you, Peter."

Peter grinned without showing his teeth and switched back to English, glad beyond words that he and Erik now seemed to be on a first name basis. "I'm pretty sure Raven and me are the only ones who are multilingual. Baldy there ruled himself out, and I can't think of anyone else." Now finished with his sandwich, Peter looked at Erik. "Are you hungry?"

"Watching you eat makes me lose my appetite," Erik said. "I won't need food for quite a while."

Peter nodded, then sped off to the kitchen to make himself several sandwiches before returning to Erik's side. "So, what's your favorite kind of sandwich? What is it? What is it?"

"Turkey."

"Really? That's my favorite, too!" Peter shoved another sandwich into his mouth and grinned. "What a coincidence."

"Turkey?" Charles asked. "That stuff's nasty, Erik!"

As Charles and Erik continued talking, Peter considered asking Erik if he would teach him chess, but decided against it. He didn't want to force anything onto his father and possibly drive him away. He'd rather drop hints here and there and have Erik volunteer his knowledge. Peter only hoped he'd have enough time to make a strong enough connection between himself and Erik to tell him the truth before Erik decided to leave the mansion again.

Peter stretched as he and the rest of the team waited in the danger room that evening for their training to start. Peter, uncharacteristically nervous, rubbed his hands on his legs as he waited. He still couldn't believe that Erik was going to join them in their training. He had to make sure that he played it cool and impressed Erik at the same time. Maybe if he showed Erik how good he was, Erik would decide to teach him how to play chess. Wouldn't that be great?

As Peter watched his friends enter the room, he waited for Erik to enter as well. But as the minutes went by and everyone else arrived, Peter was consciously aware that Erik himself was still absent. Would he actually show up? Of course, he had to! If he decided to not participate, everyone might think him cowardly or weak. Though Peter didn't know his father that well, he knew for a fact that Erik was neither of those things. Peter himself was neither of those things, and he assumed that he'd gotten them both from Erik—

"Could I have your Walkman, Peter?" Charles asked.

Peter blinked and paused. He turned, seeing Charles next to him holding out his hand. How had he not noticed Charles in the room? "You like 80s music, Baldy?"

"It's not that," Charles laughed. "I don't want Erik to have any access to metal."

Peter almost laughed himself. Charles wanted to take away his music because his Walkman had metal in it. No metal was allowed in this room. That way, it would be harder for Erik to fight. Genius!

Peter handed over his Walkman and ear buds to Charles. "Hope you like—" Peter stopped when he saw Erik enter the room. Finally! His father was actually here! Swallowing once, Peter rubbed his hands together as another twinge of nervousness waved inside him. He put his goggles over his eyes. He had to do this right and not look like a fool. Had to.

"Peter, are you nervous?" Charles asked.

Well, give it to a mind reader to point out the obvious. "No, but the last time we faced the Sentinels, it was really hard," he lied.

Charles frowned, then glanced back at Erik before looking at Peter again. Then Charles shook his head and left the room. In a flash, Peter was next to Erik as they stood and waited for the Sentinels to appear. Soon enough, heavy footsteps alerted the entire team to the Sentinels' approach, and Peter turned to Erik. "So, Magnet," Peter said as the robots readied their attack, "how you gonna fight? How you gonna fight without any metal? How you gonna win? How you gonna do it?"

"There's still metal in this room," Erik said. "I just have to work a little bit harder"— he glanced over at the door to the danger room —"to find it."

"Hope you're good at dodging, then," Peter said, grinning. "See you later. But you won't see me." Then he was off with a yawn, dodging the several attacks that raced toward him. It was so easy. He was much too fast for them. The only time he'd actually been in trouble had been against Apocalypse, but that guy was, like, immortal. Or something like that. Peter glanced over at Erik, seeing that he was standing some distance away with a hand on the wall of the room. "Yo!" Peter yelled. "You gonna help, bro?"

Erik said nothing, and Peter returned his mind to the task at hand. He increased his speed and stared up at the robots, considering. He had to do something amazing! But what? Needing some time to think, Peter turned back to the Sentinel he faced and dodged every single one of its attacks. "Too slow! Not gonna hit me! Try again! Nada!"

Glancing over, Peter saw an attack soaring toward Jean and Scott, and in a Quicksilver second, he'd grabbed both of them and hauled them out of the way.

"Looks like I had to save both you and your girl, Shades," Peter muttered to Scott as he and Jean recovered from being "Quicksilvered."

Scott swallowed and inhaled deeply. "At least I've got a girl," he whispered back. "You don't have one."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "I could just take yours," he retorted. "I _am_ really fast, you know. You won't even know she's gone."

"Sure, Pete. But at least I don't have a father who's a murderer," Scott whispered.

In a moment, Peter had shoved Scott against a wall. "Say that again, Shades," Peter growled with a Quicksilver glance in his father's direction. Scott opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was going to say, Peter never found out.

"Scott! Peter!" Jean yelled. "Look out!"

Peter turned, already speeding up, but when he inspected the situation, he saw that Erik was already in front of the two of them, deflecting the Sentinel's laser attack with a fist-sized lump of metal that had been enlarged to form a shield. No! This wasn't what he'd had in mind! Erik wasn't supposed to — and where had that metal come from?

"It seems that both of you aren't fast enough," Erik said over his shoulder,

Peter zipped to the other side of the room and watched as Erik turned his shield into a field of bullets and took down two Sentinels at once. Great, now he wouldn't have any opportunity to show off his skills.

Erik, bringing the metal back to his hand to float there as an orb, glanced over at Peter then to the only remaining Sentinel in the room. "Is evasion the only thing you do?"

Peter's eyes narrowed. Oh, now it was on. Readjusting his goggles for good measure, Peter raced toward the last Sentinel in the room, coming up with an amazing, impressive idea as he zoned in on the final robot in front of him. Aiming for the Sentinel's leg and ramping up his speed to maximum, Peter grabbed the Sentinel's leg as he passed by, using his momentum to literally tear the robot's leg off. He paused, allowing the robot to stumble and fall to the ground, then raced for its head, doing the same and decapitating the robot, successfully defeating their last opponent. He rose, not at all tired, and looked over at the rest of the team to see that Raven's mouth was open in shock. He glanced over at Erik and thought he saw Erik's eyes widen in surprise, but maybe it was just his imagination. "Done," Peter said, taking his goggles off his face.

"Pete, if you could do that all along, why'd you let that Sentinel almost kill me last week?" Scott asked.

Peter shrugged, "I just thought you could handle it, Shades." He glanced again at Erik. "Is that better than evasion?" he called out.

Erik looked at the robot on the floor and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Impressive."

A brief flash of joy erupted inside Peter and exploded within him like a firework. He grinned, then smirked, then laughed.

Now that the simulation was over, the door to the danger room opened and in came Charles. "Good work, everyone," Charles said, wheeling over to Erik and Peter. "And, Peter, how come you've never fought like that before?"

Peter shrugged. "Haven't needed to, I guess."

"Well, may I say it was a stunning performance," Charles said.

Erik nodded. "Quite impressive."

Peter's casual smile widened with glee at Erik's second compliment. "Well, I am Quicksilver."

"It was a good battle," Charles said. "What did you think, Erik?"

"Put a few more of those robots in here and I might actually break a sweat," Erik said.

"That can be arranged," Charles said.

The rest of the team, surprised by Peter's sudden prowess in attack instead of his usual evasion, raced over to him and treated him as though he'd just won the World Cup. Peter swelled a bit, but basically blew them all off; he'd already achieved his goal. Racing out of the danger room, Peter played "Thunderstruck" on his Walkman as he left the mansion and made it to a hill somewhere in Pennsylvania. Standing atop the hill, Peter let out a loud shout of celebration. He'd done it! Success! Exhilaration similar to when Peter had successfully raced across the Atlantic Ocean for the first time filled him up.

Peter pumped his fist into the air and gave several more shouts that caused a few nearby painters to nearly fall off their ladders. Grinning to not only himself but to the whole world in that instant, Peter raced back to the Institute in a blink, returning to the danger room again to receive more praise from his teammates and, hopefully, Erik.

Victory.

* * *

Peter sat in the library by himself, staring at the chessboard in front of him. For the last week and a half, Peter had been subtly, or not so subtly, trying to get Erik's attention and pull him into a chess game. So far, his efforts had failed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying. Every single time Peter caught Erik walking down a hallway, Peter would race ahead of him with a chessboard, parking himself and the game in an empty room with the door slightly ajar so Erik would see him as he walked past. Peter still remembered Erik's passing comment about how he'd teach him to play chess, and Peter intended to make Erik keep that promise. And even better than the game itself would be the conversation they'd be able to have. Peter would finally have his questions about his father answered by none other than Erik himself.

Footsteps. Peter recognized them as Erik's, so he stared at the chessboard in complete concentration, trying not to waver as the footsteps paused for a millisecond. Peter held his breath. _Please, stop_ . . .

But after a moment, the footsteps continued on. Peter almost pounded his fist on the table in frustration. Dang! Another fail! Peter, grumbling a bit, was about to leave the room when the door to the library suddenly opened.

"Teaching yourself how to play?" Charles asked.

For a second, Peter had hoped that it was Erik. Then his face fell and he turned away when he realized it was only Charles. "Oh, yeah. Trying to," Peter said, sighing and standing up before racing off and returning with a chicken drumstick.

"I can teach you," Charles said. "I'm quite adept at chess—"

"No, thanks, Baldy," Peter said, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" Charles asked.

Peter picked off a hangnail. Why wouldn't Charles just get off his back and leave him alone? "Someone else is gonna teach me."

Charles' eyes sparked in interest. "Really? Who?"

Peter blinked. Oops. Shouldn't have said that. Besides, who besides Charles was even qualified? "Raven," he said instantly.

Charles paused for a moment, and Peter was distinctly aware of the two fingers that went up to Charles temple for a moment before they withdrew. Charles' eyes widened a bit. "All right, Peter. If you're sure—"

"Positive."

"Then I'll leave you to your game," Charles said, exiting the room.

Peter, after punching the couch in a bit of disappointment, finished his chicken, dismantled the chessboard, and readied himself to go to the next room Erik would be passing to try again. Well, that was a fail. Not only had his attempt at getting Erik to play chess failed, but he'd almost gotten a game from Charles instead! That was _not_ what he wanted. But even if it took him another month, he would convince Erik to play a game of chess with him. However, if his strategy of getting Erik to volunteer his knowledge didn't work soon, he might just tie Erik up in his sleep and demand that he teach him how to play.

In a blink, Peter was running down the hall, but on the way to the next room, Peter saw that Erik and Charles were currently immersed in conversation. Curious to hear what they were saying, Peter paused and hid behind an adjacent hallway wall, listening.

" . . . little bird told me that Peter's interested in chess," Charles said. "Have you any mind to teach him?"

"That's your area, Charles," Erik said. "I'm better at causing destruction and despair."

"Oh, come off it," Charles said. "Like you haven't seen the way he sits in that library for hours on end, just waiting for someone to join him."

"You teach him," Erik said.

"I've offered, but he never shows any interest. He's shut everyone else down, Erik. Except for you. I'm certain you haven't offered to teach him yet."

"It's not my style."

"Really. I don't have to read your mind to know that you see the way he's taken a shine to you, Erik. And you don't seem to be deterring it."

"He's a pain in the—"

"So am I. You also said the same about Raven. And yet, here you are."

"I just had to befriend a mind reader," Erik said.

"Yes, old friend. You did," Charles said, his smile coming through his words.

Erik sighed, muttered something about babysitting, then walked off. Peter, excited by the conversation, zipped off with new joy within him, arriving again in the library a second later. He set the chessboard down, arranged the pieces at light speed, and waited. While he waited for what he hoped would be the first ever chess game between himself and his father, Peter began preparing himself. Getting the only book on chess from the library itself, Peter cracked it open and read the instructions. Well, this was boring. And really complicated. Throwing the book down, Peter turned back to the chessboard and stared at it again, trying to figure out how to play just by staring at the board. Then, becoming tired, Peter simply began playing checkers. It had to be similar, right?

Well, this wasn't too bad. Soon he'd be a chess pro and he'd be able to take on Magnet, no sweat. The only problem . . . how did you king someone in chess? Peter, gritting his teeth in concentration, didn't even hear the footsteps enter the room.

"Teaching yourself how to play?" Erik asked.

Peter, seeing Erik in the doorway, pushed down his excitement, nervousness, and competitive spirit. He shrugged. "I think I've got a pretty good handle on the game," he said in Polish.

Erik glanced at the board, noticed the lineup, then snorted once. "I think you need a crash course," he answered in Polish.

"Are you volunteering yourself?" Peter asked, switching to German.

"I think I'm the only one qualified," Erik said, sitting down opposite Peter and resetting the board to normal using his powers.

"What about Baldy?"

"Wouldn't you'd rather learn from someone who can't read your mind?" Erik asked.

Peter paused, then nodded, remembering Charles' conversation with Erik only minutes previously. He wasn't wrong, and Erik probably knew that.

"All right," Erik said. "Do you know anything about chess? About how the pieces move or the strategy?"

Peter kicked the book he'd been reading underneath the couch, too excited by the fact that the two of them were doing Erik's favorite past time to care that he was a complete beginner. If he got really good, he'd be able to find out so much about his father without even breaking a sweat! All he'd have to do would be play a few rounds of chess with him and ask him questions every now and then! He could become knowledgeable about so much more than chess! "No, but I'm ready to learn."

"All right," Erik said, cracking his knuckles by pushing his hands away from himself, "we'll start with the basics. Now pay attention. This is a bishop," he began, picking up the piece and showing it to Peter. "It moves diagonally backward and forward. A rook moves forward and backward, as well as left and right. A pawn moves only forward, while a knight moves in an 'L' shape in any direction, which is three squares forward and one square to either the left or to the right . . ."

Peter listened to Erik's words with rapt attention, glad that his mind could move so fast to take in such an enormous amount of information. It was ludicrous to think how detailed just a simple game with thirty-two pieces was. Wait, right. He was supposed to be paying attention.

" . . . capture diagonally. All the other pieces capture by lining up with piece they wish to capture."

"Which piece captures diagonally again?"  
Erik paused. "The pawn and the bishop. Also the queen."

Peter nodded, his head already starting to fuzz from so much information. So, an 'L' shape for the knight, diagonally for the bishop, straight and sideways for the rook, single spaces for the pawn, except on the first move when it could move double, every direction except the rook's move for the queen, single spaces for the king . . . sheesh. At least he knew how to win the game. Capture the king. That was easy. So all he had to do was capture the king.


	12. Improvement

"Right. Now that you know the rules, you can start first."

Peter swallowed, slightly nervous to be the first one playing. He moved his pawn forward.

"A pawn can't move diagonally to start. Only when it's capturing."

Peter retracted his move, then moved his pawn two spaces forward. Erik nodded, then moved his own pawn as well. As the two played, Erik began explaining the details and strategy of the game itself. Peter's mind kept up easily, but it was still hard to comprehend and keep everything straight. Peter was slightly impressed; he didn't know Erik would be this thorough.

"When did you learn how to play chess?" Peter asked once the long explanation of the strategy behind castling was through.

"Got interested in my teens. Got really interested when I befriended Charles and learned that he played as well."

Peter nodded, about to respond. Erik, however, got there first.

"Check."

Peter blinked, moving his king.

"You can't move into checkmate."

Peter retracted his king, staring at the board with more focus. There! An open spot! Peter moved his king out of harm's way, but Erik was now on the attack.

"Check," he said again.

Peter took Erik's bishop with his rook, but Erik's knight took Peter's rook soon after.

"Check," Erik said.

"How much?" Peter muttered, laughing a bit and moving his king again.

Erik began to get up, moving one last piece. "Checkmate, kid."

Peter paused, then stared at the board, checking to make sure Erik's words were true. How had he not seen that coming?

"Don't sweat it, Peter," Erik said, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he made his way out of the room, "everyone has trouble when they first learn."

Peter stared at the board for a few moments, still unable to believe that he'd lost. Where had the time gone? How had he lost so fast? The game had begun and ended so quickly that Peter hadn't found out anything about Erik, except the fact that he was an excellent chess player! How did that help him at all?

And even worse was that he'd looked like a fool! In front of Erik! How stupid was he? Why hadn't he practiced and studied more? Was he that idiotic to think that he'd be able to not only match, but best his father in a game on the first try? A game that he'd never played before and that Erik was a master at?

Now a bit angry and depressed with himself, Peter placed his music in his ears, turned on "No More No More," got the chess book from underneath the couch, then returned to his bedroom and threw himself into study. Next time would be different. Next time, he'd play chess to win, though it wasn't chess he cared about much as finding out more about his father. That was his true goal. If it took becoming a chess master to do that, then Peter would become the greatest chess player in existence.

Erik had given him a practice game and practically volunteered to teach Peter himself. Well, imagine Erik's surprise when Peter would be on par with him! It would happen! If, no, _when_ their next chess match came, Peter knew that he would be ready; he didn't want this chess match to ever happen again. It was humiliating and a bit depressing.

More than anything, Peter wanted to converse with his father. He wanted to know everything about him. If a chess game was the route to that, then so be it. And in the process, maybe he could even impress Erik.

Flipping through the book at light speed, Peter was just finishing the final chapter on the usefulness of pawns before remembering something. In a flash, he was inside Charles' study, recalling that he'd seen several books on chess strategy a few weeks ago when Charles had attempted to convince him to learn how to play. Now he was voluntarily learning for his own reasons. Talk about crazy.

Jackpot. Sweeping his eyes over the room, Peter spied several chess books on the bookshelf, and instantly he had them all in hand and, sitting down, spread them out in front of him as he inspected his stash. Several beginner, intermediate, and even a few advanced books on the rules and strategy of chess now lay at his fingertips, and Peter was surprised at how excited he was at the concept of actually reading something. Something as boring as chess. Normally he wouldn't even touch the game of chess, much less a book on the subject. But this was different. This was a _plan_.

Peter opened the first book and poured through it, taking in every sentence and memorizing every strategy. It was hard. It was exhausting. It was great. He soaked up all the information like a sponge, taking less than sixty seconds per book as he read and reread every sentence.

Wanting to test out all the different moves that the book talked about, Peter snatched the chessboard from the library and brought it into Charles' study, playing a game in ten seconds using the tactics the book described before resetting the board and doing it again. Again and again. Over and over. Peter finished three books and read five more, at the same time noting every single strategy and method of attack. He cruised through the beginners books on chess and headed straight into intermediate and advanced within five minutes.

Now hungry, Peter took _Art of Attack_ with him and raced into the kitchen, making himself two dozen hot dogs and eating six as he read another chapter. Still pouring through the books, Peter's eyes never left the page as he consumed his snack, then he snapped the book shut and ate his last hot dog.

There. Finished. He'd even read every book in the mansion on chess. All things considered, it was only about twenty books, all dictionary length. Not that much for Quicksilver to read through. And since he was done reading, the time for action was now.

Placing his goggles over his eyes, Quicksilver raced out of the mansion and circled the entire world in several different directions within a minute, hanging a right in China and speeding into a national chess tournament. He sped through the building, took note of every player and every move, then moved onto Europe.

There he found several more chess tournaments and even more strategies. Then America, Australia, and every European country, as well as practically every state in America. They were local, regional, and professional. Great to watch and learn from. He was just watching someone from France castle when he remembered that there was a championship going on in China. Speeding back to China in a moment, Peter watched the gameplay for a moment before moving a piece for a boy who seemed about to move himself into check. That was the best move, anyway, and he'd practiced enough that he could actually see fifteen moves ahead in most cases. Besides, if he didn't practice playing now, he might never learn and be ready to face his father. He wanted to be on par with him; he wanted to force Erik into a conversation that he wasn't even aware of. Chess was the best medium to do that in. While Erik focused on the game, Peter could ask him questions while his attention was averted. It was gold.

Rushing back to France, Peter moved a chess piece for another kid, then did the same in Australia. He continued this with several other countries and regional and international championships before he managed to checkmate ninety-five percent of his opponents. The only slow part was having to wait for the other person to make a move, but Peter was proud with his progress and the outcome. Talk about a quick chess game.

Now hungry and satisfied, Peter realized that the sun was starting to rise. Wow, so it was already morning of the next day? Dang. He returned to the mansion and grabbed fifteen more hot dogs, piling them high with leftover chili, cheese, and bacon. He sat down, somehow not feeling tired in the slightest, and ate at the speed of Quicksilver. Due to his amazing metabolism that allowed him to do everything fast, he also was able to sleep fast. Hours and hours of sleep was something that he did simply to pass the time every so often; not because he really needed it. A minute of sleep for him was forty-five hours anyway. Now finished with his snack, Peter made his way to the living room and found the rest of his friends sitting while simultaneously stretching and yawning, still in the process of waking up. He sat down on the couch and startled everyone, effectively waking them up much more than their coffee did.

"You were gone all night," Ororo said. "What were you doing?"

"Getting in some chess practice," Peter said.

"What for?" Raven asked.

"Finally got a game out of Erik," Peter said.

Now everyone seemed to be smiling in understanding. Peter just ignored them, then raced to get six burgers and a pizza from the kitchen before returning to the living room.

"Vas the chess fun to play?" Kurt asked.

"A blast, actually," Peter said. "I managed to defeat ninety-five percent of my opponents in regional and international tournaments." Peter smirked, put his arms behind his head, and put his feet up, leaning back.

"How'd you manage that?" Hank asked.

"Being Quicksilver," Peter said. "I went through Europe, China, and the States and hit every tournament there was. I played a couple hundred games of chess within about eight hours. I think I'm pretty good now, but I'll study up some more before I challenge Magnet again, just to be safe."

"You are studyving to go against Erik?" Kurt asked.

"Or Baldy," Peter said, "at least as a practice game before I take on Magnet again. But I doubt that Baldy could beat me in chess even if he tried."

"And this baldy could also make you believe your legs were broken," Charles said, entering the room and making everyone jump.

"Hey, Baldy," Peter said, jumping up. "Want to play a game of chess? I'm pretty good now."

"Only if you stop calling me Baldy."

Peter shrugged. "All right, Wheelchair. You up for a game?"

"I would prefer if you used my real name," Charles said. Then he sighed. "All right, Peter. As promised, one game of chess."

Peter, rubbing his hands in excitement, raced into Charles' study in a blink, re-reading five more books on the strategy of chess and playing fifty games by himself by the time Charles entered the room.

"All right, Peter. Let's play chess."

"Sweet," Peter said, taking a seat and waiting for Charles to begin the game. "After playing a game with Magnet, I threw myself into studying. I've been studying for the last eight hours, so I think I'll do pretty good. Might even beat you. What do you think about that?"

"Peter," Charles laughed, "I think it takes more than eight hours to master a game of logic that people like myself study for years."

"I'm Quicksilver, remember?" Peter said. "For me, eight hours is two years."

Charles blinked. "Touché. What sparked your interest in chess anyway?" he asked as he took the first move. "You've been here several weeks, and only recently . . . quite recently, have you taken any interest in a game you previously called a time-waster."

Peter shrugged, taking his move in less than a second. Didn't Charles already know, or was he just trying to get him to admit to his motives? "You talked to Erik already, right? You know the reason."

"I may have talked to Erik, but I didn't read his mind."

Peter frowned. Did Charles really not know, or was he just playing dumb? "Come on, Wheelchair. You read minds; you already know."

Charles chuckled as he moved another piece. "Peter, just because I can read your mind, doesn't mean I do so on a daily basis."

Peter moved his own chess piece, blinking. "You're pulling my leg, Wheelchair. You know what's going on."

Charles took another move, and Peter took his move soon after. Now things were getting interesting, but not just on the chessboard. "I'd rather not read minds if I don't have to, Peter," Charles said. "Tell me, what is it that I'm unaware of?"

Peter shrugged. It was almost impossible for him to think that the one person who still didn't know the truth about Erik could also read minds. Everyone else in the mansion had known for two weeks already. Talk about irony. "About Erik and me. Don't you know? Don't you?"

"I know that you broke him out of prison, and you seem to have taken a bit of a liking to him, but I am unaware of anything else," Charles said, moving his piece forward and now looking quizzically at Peter.

Peter looked out of the study's window as he answered. "Well . . . Erik's my father."

Peter would've heard the gasp all the way from Finland. Charles' mouth fell open in shock. He blinked several times in amazement, then beamed stronger than a ray of sun on the equator. "Peter, this is spectacular!"

Peter didn't know what was so spectacular about it. Why did everyone have such a strong reaction to Erik's being his father? "What's so amazing about it?"

Charles took a deep breath to calm himself. "Hold on, Peter, are you certain of this?"

"Well, yeah. My mom knew a guy who could bend metal, and I just put the pieces together."

"And you haven't told Erik yet?"

"Haven't told me what?"

Peter froze, whirling around and seeing Erik standing in the doorway. Had he heard? Did he already know? Peter opened his mouth twice, but Charles was there to save him in a heartbeat.

"Has Peter told you how good he is at chess?" Charles rested his chin on one hand. "You know, I think he could give you a run for your money, Erik. A few more moves and I might've been in trouble."

"I think you're giving him too much credit, Charles," Erik said. "I played against him last night and he wasn't that hard to beat."

Peter blinked, then found his voice. "I've been playing for eight hours already. I'm better than last time."

Erik snorted. "Really. Eight hours."

Peter's eyes narrowed, and he stood up and approached Erik boldly. "For me, one of your seconds is forty-five minutes. A minute is forty-five hours. An hour of your time is one hundred twelve days, and a day for you is _seven years_ for me. So, Magnet, how long have _you_ been playing chess?"

"I told you Erik," said Charles with his arms folded, "this kid's good. He's got brains as well as speed."

"And brawn," Erik said, rubbing his shoulder.

Peter nodded. "I think I got them all from my father."

"I wonder what he thinks of having a son like you," Erik said.

"Don't know," Peter said coolly. "Never met the guy. So, we gonna play chess or not?"

Erik looked at Charles, then back to Peter. He snorted. "Looks like I'm pinned in from all angles. All right. One game."

Peter grinned and immediately dismantled the game he and Charles were playing, resetting the board to normal. "Do you care who plays first?"

Erik moved to take a seat opposite Peter before pausing. "No . . . you do remember what each piece does, don't you?"

Peter's eyes narrowed in a bit of a sneer. "You _do_ know how to castle, don't you?"

Erik blinked. "I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't confuse the rook for the bishop."

"No, I know that once you checkmate the pawn, the game's over."

Erik's mouth twitched upward. "Do you want Charles to coach you?"

Peter held back a smile of his own. "I think I'll manage. So, do you want to go first?"

"No, you can."


	13. Win the Game

Charles glanced at Peter, then grinned at Erik. "I think I'll leave you two to your game. I should probably check on the rest of the students, anyway. Make sure they're not destroying the mansion."

"You play a lot of chess with Wheelchair?" Peter asked, moving his first piece after Charles left.

Erik frowned. "Wheelchair?"

"Baldy. The only way I could get him to play chess with me was by changing his nickname."

Erik nodded, moving as well. "Used to."

"Now you don't?"

"Charles and I aren't exactly friends anymore," Erik said.

"Why not? Come on, you can tell me. Why not? Come on, why not? Why?"

"Our world viewpoints clash."  
"Right," Peter said. "You said that already. Wheelchair wants to befriend humans and you want them to know that mutants are superior."

Erik paused and looked at him. "How do you know that?"

Peter blinked. Uh-oh. Right. He wasn't supposed to hear that conversation. "Wheelchair told me all about it a few days ago."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "And yet you spend all your free time annoying him."

Peter shrugged. "I also saw your speech on the news." He glanced at Erik then, hoping he'd successfully covered his tracks.

Erik relaxed and moved his piece forward.

"I can still remember when I was fourteen, I ran past a bunch of police officers who were testing out the accuracy of their speed radar guns. After I ran past, all the guns exploded. Everybody was freaking out; it was hilarious." Peter glanced over at Erik after moving his own piece, glad to see that he was trying not to smile. "And there was this other time when I was running down the highway and I accidentally crashed into a semi-truck."

This time, Erik laughed. "So a kid like you who can run a million miles an hour was hit by something going seventy. Pretty impressive."

Why did everyone keep saying that? He could run _way_ faster than a million miles an hour. "Actually, I can run eighty-six million miles an hour. But it's not like I'm keeping track or anything . . . " Erik chuckled again, and Peter grinned. They played chess in silence for a few moments, but Peter wanted to continue his questioning. He wanted to ask Erik about his mother. He couldn't outright ask about her, however. That would be quite strange. He'd have to circumnavigate his way there. "So, how was college? I mean as a mutant and everything."

"Didn't go," Erik said, focusing on his next move. "I got involved with a girl instead."

Score! Peter was so excited that he raced away, got a sandwich from the kitchen, and performed a few dance moves before returning to Charles' study and devouring his sandwich. Erik glanced over at him, but said nothing. "Really?" Peter asked, worried that he sounded a bit too excited. "What was she like?"

"Good. Great, actually."

"Yeah?" Peter said, trying to stay casual as he moved another chess piece with a shaky hand. "Did you . . . marry her?"

Erik shook his head. "No. I was twenty-two, and she was already talking about starting a family and settling down. I wasn't ready for that, so I left."

"Makes sense," Peter said, nodding. "Did you . . . have any kids with her?"

Erik's eyes widened, and he let out a long exhalation. "No, thank goodness."

Peter's mouth thinned into a line as he took another turn. So she hadn't told him. He really didn't know.

"Why are you so interested?" Erik asked, moving another piece.

Peter licked his lips as he took another turn. "There . . . hasn't been another mutant here in over half a year. That, and you're kind of a celebrity. You've killed the President, accidentally, of course," he added, "been in prison, and got in league with Apocalypse. You've done it all."

Erik nodded, taking his next turn. "I heard from Charles that you're quite a thief."

Peter grinned. "Yeah, I stole a bunch of televisions and some food. There was even this one time that I managed to steal an arcade console. How I got that thing onto my back and managed to get it home, I have no idea, but man, when I dragged that thing through the front door, Magda was _so mad—_ "

Erik looked sharply at Peter. "Your mother's name is Magda?"

Oh, no. He'd slipped up. Great job, Peter. "N-no," Peter said quickly, already forming a lie in his head. "My best friend's name was Magda. My mom's name is Maggie."

Erik continued to look at Peter sideways for a few more seconds before moving another piece. "And what powers did her mutant boyfriend have?"

Had he figured it out already?! Peter hoped not with all his might. "Magic," he said instantly. "Red, weird magic that could do a bunch of different stuff."

Erik nodded.

"So," Peter said, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction, "did you ever steal things when you were a kid?"

Erik shook his head.

"Did you ever get into fights? I got into a few fights. But that stopped after I got my powers."

"Can't say I did."

Erik's answers were so short that Peter feared that his mind was still on Peter's own mistake. "What were your parents like?" Peter asked, vying for his full attention. "Were they mutants, too?"

At this, Erik's face hardened. "No, they were human."

"R-right," Peter said, laughing a bit as he noticed that the metal bust of Einstein in the corner of the room was now melting. At least he'd gotten Erik's attention, but man, Peter had to be more careful. "My mom was human, too. My dad was a mutant. Did I tell you this already? Anyway, I think they were both twenty-two when I was born, but my dad left before I was born. So my mom raised me, and we've been doing okay. Who raised you?"

Now the metal book holder on the other side of the room was starting to curl. "My . . . parents," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Right, Poland. The Holocaust. Stupid! "My father wasn't in my life. You're kinda lucky. Anyway, I didn't go to college either. Was expelled from school at twelve for putting a couple of teenagers in the hospital. Then I spent the rest of my time stealing food and stuff and rescuing people from burning buildings and car crashes. Did you ever rescue anyone?"

"The woman I dated," Erik said. "Magda."

Another point for Peter, but since he'd almost been caught talking about his mother who, coincidentally, had the exact same name as Erik's previous girlfriend, Peter figured he'd switch subjects. "So what was it like in prison? Dirty? Dusty? Boring? What'd you do with all the free time you had? Did they ever let you out or let you see sunlight, or were you trapped in there for ten whole years?"

"It was quite boring," Erik said. "There was no one to play chess with."

Peter grinned, then moved his castle forward. "Check." Then Peter mentally slapped himself. He'd been close to checkmate, but he'd gotten so immersed in the conversation that he'd accidentally forced his father into a stalemate. "Dang it," he muttered.

Erik inspected the board, then raised his eyebrows. "Impressive," he said. "I didn't expect you to be able to match my chess playing abilities."

Peter looked up at Erik, blinked in surprise, then swelled. "Yup, I practiced," he said, grinning.

Erik nodded, then made a move to get up.

"Do you want to play again?" Peter asked, resetting the board in an instant. "I might beat you this time. Let's play again. One more game. Come on, Magnet. One more game."

Erik shook his head. "I'd rather eat lunch."

Peter's stomach growled at the thought of food, and in an instant he was in the kitchen, preparing sandwiches. Hardly had Erik blinked before Peter returned with two dozen sandwiches, handing two to Erik himself. "It's turkey," Peter said.

Erik looked at the sandwich then at Peter, then hesitantly took the food.

"Come on, one more game. Come on, Magnet," Peter pressed, eating a dozen sandwiches in two seconds. "Come on. Hey, come on. You scared I might beat you?"

Sighing, Erik sat back down. "You're very persistent, aren't you?"

"Yup."

Erik took a bite of his sandwich, blinking in surprise. He looked at Peter, then nodded. "All right. One more game."

"So, who won?" Charles asked, wheeling in just as the second game was starting.

"It was a tie," Peter said. "We're going to play again and see who wins."

"I've haven't beaten you in quite some time, Charles," Erik said, making the first move. "Maybe I'll be able to beat your successor again."

"You'll find it more difficult than you think," Charles said. He pointed over to Erik's last sandwich. "What kind is that?"

"Turkey," Erik and Peter said together.

Charles shuddered. "Nasty. Can't stand the stuff."

"Just another one of the things that separates us both, Charles," Erik said.

"If all that separated us was the food we enjoyed, maybe it wouldn't be so bad," Charles said, laughing slightly.

Peter stayed silent, hoping that Charles could goad something out of Erik that his father hadn't told him yet. He took his turn quietly and waited.

"How can you trust humans, Charles?" Erik asked, making his next move with a bit too much force and causing the chessboard to slide a bit.

"There is good in all, Erik. You just don't know how to see it, either in yourself of in others," Charles said.

"Humans took my mother away from me," Erik snarled under his breath, and Peter was surprised to find him now speaking Polish. "They put my family in Auschwitz! They found me in Pruszków and murdered my wife and daughter! How can you trust _them_?!"

Erik was up now, facing Charles in a rage. Keeping his eye on the situation, Peter carefully made his next move before returning to his stationary position, not wanting to draw any extra attention to himself. However deep this thing between them ran, Peter wanted to stay out of it.

"We've all suffered loss, Erik," Charles said, and now his eyes were sad. "All of us."

Peter could've sworn that Charles did something to Erik just then, because Erik shrugged it off and sat back down.

"Then you should agree with me," Erik growled.

"Your vendetta against a few humans who caused you pain doesn't give you the right to exterminate or hate the entire race of mankind," Charles said. "Remember: the man who murdered your mother was not a human, Erik. He was a mutant."

Erik stiffened, then made his next move. He glanced up, saw Peter for what seemed to be the first time, blinked and snarled a bit, then turned back to Charles. "They should know the pain I feel."

"They don't deserve that, Erik," Charles said. "From the good in your heart, you know that."

Erik sighed and said no more.

"If your wife and daughter are . . . well . . . then why don't you go back to Magda?" Peter asked, trying to swerve the conversation into a lighter topic.

Erik looked up at Peter for a moment, then laughed coldly. "She wouldn't have me back, Peter. She hates me; I practically tried to kill her."

Peter frowned, thinking back to how Magda had glowed when talking about Erik's personality while they had dated. "You don't know that."

"I know her a lot better than . . . you act like you know her," Erik said, taking another turn. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"I might know a lot better than you think I do," Peter countered.

Erik looked at Peter fully this time, his eyes narrowing a bit. "What are you talking about, Peter?"

Peter blinked. Had he gone too far? Better backtrack. "I never had a father," he said, rapidly switching subjects. "You lost your mother. Isn't that kind of the same thing?"

Erik's eyes blazed, and the poor half-melted bust of Einstein in the corner of the room melted completely. "Don't ever mention that again, Peter," he whispered. "Understand?"

"I got it," Peter said instantly. "I got it. Chill, bro."

"It seems like I'll have to replace that," Charles said mildly. "You _are_ going to fix the south hall, aren't you, Erik?"

"Yes, Charles," Erik said, taking another turn.

Peter made no sound for the next five minutes, but after assessing that Erik no longer looked murderous, Peter tried another question. "What was the coolest thing you ever did with your powers?"

"I figured out how to levitate using some marbles beneath my feet," Erik said, taking another turn.

"I managed to get into an amusement park for free when I was sixteen, and it was quite a laugh tricking everyone into thinking that I was James Dean."

"Charles," Erik chuckled, "I didn't know you had that sort of trickery in you."

"I had quite a few run-ins with the law during my teenage years," Charles said, grinning.

"I just ran past the law; they never caught me," Peter said. He paused a moment, thinking of an answer to his question. "I remember the time when I was fifteen and planning to run around the world. To prepare for it, I had to figure out if it was possible for me to actually run on water. I was so sure I was going to drown that I put on a lifejacket just to be safe." Peter laughed then. "Then I took off. I nearly passed out when I realized I was on the shores of Normandy." Peter took another turn, trying to think of another question to ask. "How did you two become friends, anyway?"

"Erik here was trying to stop a submarine," Charles said. "I saved him from drowning."

Peter glanced at his father. "Whoa, you can stop a submarine?"

"I can't just stop one," Erik said, taking his turn and smirking a bit, "I can pull it out of the water completely."

"And I thought running on top of water was cool," Peter said, slightly awestruck. "But I can dodge bullets. Can you dodge bullets, Magnet?"

"I can deflect them," Erik said.

"Right into my spine," Charles said.

"That's how you got into that wheelchair?" Peter asked, moving his rook into a position to attack. "I thought it was just a fashion statement."  
Charles smiled grimly. "No, Peter. This 'fashion statement' is quite permanent."

"I'd go crazy if I couldn't use my legs," Peter said, shuddering a bit.

"Then be glad you're not me."

"Trust me," Peter said with an emphatic nod, "I am."

"Well then, we're in agreement. I, likewise, am quite glad I'm not you."

Peter blinked. "Why?"

Charles glanced over at Erik, who was too busy making his next chess move to notice. "Different reasons," Charles said airily.

Peter frowned then shrugged. "Being me's not that bad."

"If you say so."

"Trust me, it's better than being bald and lame."

"I take offense to that, Peter," Charles said. "Would you rather I tell Erik—"

" _No_!" Peter yelled, standing up in an instant.

Erik, taking his hand off a castle, paused. "Tell me what?" he asked.

Peter opened his mouth to cut him off, but Charles, placing two fingers to his temple, was already talking.

"Tell you that Peter here managed to win ninety-eight professional chess matches within the last eight hours," Charles said, taking his hand away from his temple. "I doubt you have a very good chance of winning, old friend."

"Ninety-eight?" Erik asked, looking at Peter. "Is that true?"

Peter blinked and outwardly sighed. He glared at Charles for a moment, who looked quite smug. "Oh, that? Yeah. It was no big deal. I read all of Wheelchair's chess strategy books before playing a few amateur games then going professional. I managed to checkmate quite a lot of opponents."

Erik nodded, moving another piece. "Let's see if you can do better."

Peter looked back to the chessboard, seeing the attack that Erik was beginning to set up. He grinned without showing his teeth, already forming a plan of his own. Knowing that in open position, bishops were of more value than knights, Peter concentrated on taking those next, sacrificing two pawns, a rook, and a knight to obtain the bishops he wanted. Moving both his own bishops into play, Peter kept his own knight out of harm's way as he narrowed in on the king, keeping track of Erik's remaining rooks. He had, however, underestimated the power of Erik's two knights. Before he knew it, Erik had taken Peter's other rook, blocking his strategy. Peter took one of Erik's rooks with his bishop, but his strategy was still stalled.

Suddenly, similar to what others probably saw when he ran by them, Peter had a flash of brilliance. He saw it. The winning move. Blinking once, Peter moved his queen into the danger zone, allowing Erik to inch closer to her as he moved his other bishop and remaining knight into play. This was it! He was so close to winning! Hardly daring to breathe, Peter moved his queen into position. He knew that the only way to win was to unbalance Erik, so Peter purposely moved his queen into a spot where he knew she could get taken. Erik looked at Peter with a frown, then shook his head briefly before capturing her.

Peter glanced over at Charles to see that he had his eyebrows raised in interest. Did Charles know what he was planning? Peter barely dared to breathe as he moved his bishop into play, taking Erik's knight. "Check," he said.

Erik looked at the board, then analyzed the positions of all the pieces before leaning back and tilting his head up, still looking downward. Erik moved his rook to block Peter, but Peter took it with his only knight. "Check," he said again.

Erik moved his king, then Peter moved his other bishop into play, now practically shaking with excitement. "Checkmate," Peter said. Then he grinned wide and looked over at Erik, wondering to see how his father would respond.

Erik glanced down at the board, then back at Peter. Nodding curtly, Erik knocked over his king then got up.

"Hey, I beat you, Magnet," Peter said, practically glowing. "Come on, admit it. I won. I did it. Come on, say it. Say it. Come on, Magnet. Say it." Peter waited for the compliment, but it never came.

Erik only glanced down at Peter once again before turning and stiffly walking out of the room.

Peter frowned, now feeling a bit depressed. Should he have lost? What had he done wrong? It was a fair game; it wasn't like he'd cheated. Why hadn't Erik congratulated him on his victory? Shrugging, Peter turned to Charles. "What's up with him?"

Charles was shaking his head, his eyes bright and his hand covering up a smile. "I can't believe . . . I'm chuffed to bits." Charles laughed a bit more before turning to Peter. "I never thought I'd see him like that again. He acted the exact same way the first time I beat him at chess. Erik hates to lose."

Peter nodded. Though he still partly wanted Erik to compliment his skills, it didn't matter that much. He'd won. He'd beat Erik. And he'd also found out a bit about his mother and Erik's past. All in all, it was a huge win for Peter. Zipping away and listening to "Eruption" as he grabbed all of the chess books from his room, Peter returned to Charles' study with them and put them away since they were now obsolete. He'd sealed his victory.


	14. Metabolic Issues

"Top shelf," Charles said as Peter paused and tried to remember where to place _Art of Attack_. "I'm surprised those books came in handy for you. I didn't take you for a reader."

"I'm not," Peter said, zipping past Charles and putting another book away.

"And you're certain that Erik has no knowledge of your . . . relationship to him?"

Peter laughed, pausing before putting five books away in a second. "If he does, it'd be a surprise to me. Why? Have you been inside his mind? Do you know something I don't, Wheelchair? Do you? Do you?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't read people's minds like you do chess books, Peter. Besides, I'd rather stay out of Erik's head."

Peter sagged a bit. "So you don't know."

"I have my suspicions, but—"

"For being able to read people's minds, you're no help at all," Peter said.

Charles grinned a bit. "You don't believe that, Peter."

Peter blinked. He should've known better than to lie to a mind reader. "I thought you said you don't read minds on a daily basis."

"Just because I don't, doesn't mean I can't. It _is_ my mutant ability, Peter. Why don't you try living a day at normal speed for once?"

Peter shook his head. "Already have; I'll pass." Checking his watch, Peter saw that it was noon on the dot. Realizing that lunchtime was here, Peter raced from the study toward the kitchen. After being here for two weeks, Peter had learned that Erik always ate breakfast at exactly seven, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Peter ate whenever he was hungry, but he could always join his team, and his father, for the respective times that normal people ate at. Peter, being a speedster, didn't favor a schedule at all, but he wanted to be in the kitchen at noon because . . . well . . .

Now in the kitchen, Peter saw that practically all of his team minus Hank were busy eating lunch. Erik was eating as well, and Peter joined them all at the table with two dozen chili dogs just as Erik was in the middle of taking a drink of water. Peter's sudden materialization beside him caused Erik to spill water all over himself. Lucky Peter was there to save the day. He took the glass out of Erik's hands, grabbed a towel to wipe up the falling spill, then set Erik's drink on the table. There. Done.

"Morning, everyone. Hey, Magnet," Peter said.

Erik looked at his hands then to Peter, grunting once before picking up his glass and taking another sip. "Do you always enter a room with such fanfare?"

Peter nodded, shoving a chili dog into his mouth. "That's just who I am." He turned to the rest of the team. "Hey, guys. Guess what?"

"What, Pete?" Scott asked.

"I just beat Magnet here at chess."  
"I vought he vas a chess master," Kurt said.

"He is. Well, was," Peter said, smirking a bit. "But I beat him by practicing my legs off." Peter glanced over at Erik to see that Erik had his eyebrows furrowed in slight displeasure. Instantly, Peter was there to rib him. "Hey, come on, Magnet. Come on. Come on, you know I'm just messing with you."

Erik said nothing, but he used his powers to pull a stained German half dollar coin from his pocket and morph it so that it spelled the words, _Shut up_ before reverting the coin back to normal.

Now everyone was laughing, and in that instant, Hank ran into the room, obviously excited about something.

"What's up, Furry?" Peter asked, taking a drink of soda from the liter he'd gotten from the fridge.

Hank looked as though he'd just found out that his mutation no longer included living life as a Smurf. "I did it," he said proudly. "It's finished."

"What's finished?" Raven asked.

Hank rubbed his hands together in excitement. "I updated the cloaking mechanism for the plane."

"Wait, we need to disguise ourselves when we fly around in a plane?" Peter asked. "What are we doing, something illegal?"

Hank looked at Peter, slightly annoyed. "It's for undercover missions and stealth."

"Sure, it is," Peter said, balancing the vase that was sitting on the table on the tip of his finger.

"I've worked on updating the plane's stealth device for the last two weeks," Hank said, grinning and looking around the room as though everyone else would realize the horrendous amount of work he'd just accomplished. "It's finally ready. Do you guys want to see it?"

Peter shrugged, eating another hot dog and glancing around the table to see what everyone else's plans were before he made his decision.

"I'll come," Raven said, leaping up.

"Let's go," Jean said.

"It's not like there's anything important going on," Scott said, standing up as well.

Peter remained nonchalant and seated, still not answering.

"It vould be fascinating to see," Kurt said, vanishing and reappearing beside Hank.

"I'm up for it," Ororo said.

Erik finished the last bite of food on his plate before wiping his mouth with a napkin and nodding. "All right."

"Sweet," Peter said, up in a blink. "Let's check it out."

Soon, everyone, including Charles, were standing inside the plane Hank had modified, admiring the changes he'd made.

Peter, however, yawned slightly. The plane looked the same, except for this apparent "cloaking technology" Furry had updated. Aside from that, things were kind of boring.

" . . . I even developed an alternate power source so that the cloaking would be able to last for up to twelve hours, even running partly off the fuel line of the plane itself."

"Fascinating," Charles said. "You've been working on this for the last week?"

"Actually, two weeks, but . . . yeah," Hank said.

"And this ability will last for twelve hours?"

"In theory," Hank said. "I haven't tested it out yet."  
"Why don't we try it right now?" Charles asked. "This could come in handy if it actually works."

Hank's eyes glowed. "Really? I can take it out?"

"Of course," Charles said. He turned to the rest of the team. "Are you all up for a short trip?"

"I don't see why not," Raven said, sitting in the chair next to Hank.

"Sure," Jean said.

Charles glanced at Erik, and Peter saw Erik nod and grinned himself.

Now giddy with excitement, Hank got up and walked toward the cockpit to start the plane.

"Dude, you need a girlfriend," Peter said, zipping over to Hank as he began to start the plane. "Spending all your time around planes is just pathetic."

Hank blushed a bit, then glanced over at Raven who was now talking to Ororo and blushed deeper. "Whatever," he muttered.

Peter placed his music into his ears, pausing as his stomach growled. Hungry. Right. All he'd eaten was a snack. He probably should've eaten that pot roast and the other two dozen hot dogs before getting on the plane. "This hunk of metal's got food, right?"

"Yeah," Hank said absently, starting up the engines.

Peter nodded, then returned to the belly of the plane and sat down next to Erik, taking out a single ear bud. "Didn't bring your chessboard, huh?"

"It'll only be a few hours," Erik said.

"A few hours of nothing to do," Peter said, yawning again.

"At least Baldy over there isn't bored," Scott said, pointing over to where Charles was listening intently to Hank's explaining the inner workings of the cloaking mechanism.

"I heard that," Charles said, glancing over in Scott's direction.

Scott panicked for a moment, then nudged Jean who was sitting beside him. Jean laughed.

"So are ve taking a trip avound the vorld?" Kurt asked.

"Probably several times just to make sure our cloak will hold," Hank said.

"By then we'll all be dying of boredom," Peter muttered.

"I can fix vat," Kurt said. In an instant, he disappeared. The plane was just in the middle of taking off when Kurt suddenly returned, holding a chessboard.

"Thanks, Circus," Peter said, glancing at Erik. "At least now we have something to do."

"You really can't just sit still and do nothing, can you?" Erik asked.

"Course not; I'm a speedster. That'd be like telling you to stop pulling submarines from the water," Peter said.

Erik rolled his eyes, then brought the chessboard over with a flick of his finger and levitated it in the air as he made the first move.

"How long have you been playing chess, anyway?" Peter asked as he made the second move.

"On and off for five years," Erik said, moving as well.

"Yeah? Did you ever manage to beat Charles?"

"Only once when he couldn't read my mind," Erik said.

"I never read your mind, Erik," Charles said from inside the cockpit. "I've just been playing longer than you."

"You know I would never believe that, James Dean," Erik said with a bit of a grin.

"Who's James Dean?" Peter asked, moving another piece forward.

"Charles' alter ego," Erik snorted.

"Wouldn't that be something," Charles said. "A bald cripple by day, a million dollar actor by night."

Peter frowned as he and Erik began their fourth chess game. Now quite hungry, Peter raced once around the plane, then did the same again before rushing into the cockpit, crossing his arms as he stood next to Hank. "Hey, Furry. I thought you said there was food here."

Hank looked away from the pressure gauge and up to Peter. "What? I never said that."

"Yes, you did," Peter said, now getting a bit angry. "Where's the food in this place?"

"Peter, there's no food here," Hank said, reaching over to inspect how much power the cloaking device still had. "It's not a kitchen."

Peter returned to his seat next to Erik in an instant, throwing a dirty glance toward the cockpit before moving his castle forward. "Furry said there was food in this hunk of metal," Peter growled. "He lied."

"Don't worry about it," Scott said, leaning back and stretching so his arm went around Jean's shoulders. "We'll be back in a few hours. The mansion's got food; don't sweat it."

"While I'm busy waiting, why don't I just take those shades off your face and see how you deal with that?" Peter spat.

"Dude, chill," Scott said. "It's not like you're starving or anything."

"Like you'd know," Peter growled. He felt horrible. Sick and weak. Suddenly, he remembered that there were other members on his team who could help. "Hey, Circus," he said.

"Yes?" Kurt said.

"How far do your teleportation abilities go?"

"About one hundred miles. Why?"

Well, that ruined his plan of teleporting to the mansion; they weren't anywhere near the mansion. He wouldn't dare leap from a moving plane and try to hit the ground running; the last time he'd done that from his mother's car, he'd nearly gotten himself killed. Peter rubbed his neck. "Could you teleport someone to the ground from inside the plane?"

Kurt looked a bit worried at the thought. "If I didn't see vere I vas teleporting to, I could very easily end up in a tree."

That wasn't going to work, either. He didn't want to end up with his arm in a tree or his leg partway under the earth. He'd already had his leg broken once; it was not going to be broken again. Moving another chess piece, Peter looked again at the rest of his team, pausing as his eyes fell on Jean. "Red."

"Yeah?" Jean asked.

"How good are you at levitating people?"

Jean blinked. "Not good. I can lift heavy things easily enough, but holding them steady takes an enormous amount of concentration. The only time I can ever levitate myself without much difficulty is in my sleep."

Scott was hanging on Jean's every word, but Peter had tuned her out the instant she had given him a negative response to his question. He found himself having to fight not to get exasperated. Could no one help him?

"Peter."  
Peter's gaze snapped over to Erik. "What?" he asked sharply.

Erik glanced down at the chessboard, and Peter realized it was his turn. Sighing once, Peter took his turn then was in the cockpit again. "How long until we land? How long?"

"We've got . . . five hours of power left, in theory," Hank said.

Peter's eyes widened. "We can't land for five hours? Are you serious?"

"If we land, we'll have to shut off the cloaking device and start all over for recalibration. If we land now, the systems would reboot, there would be a power swap between the fuel lines and the cloaking mechanism, and the entire thing would be a dud," Hank said, sounding a bit exasperated. "We're checking to see if this could be helpful in an infiltration situation here, Peter. This isn't some game."

Hunger practically tore at Peter now, but his mind still raced. If only he could get them to land, then . . . "Well, why can't you just land, recalibrate everything, and take off again? Or just take note of how much power the cloaking mechanism had before you landed and go from there?"

"Recalibrating would take too long," Hank said. "Besides, twenty-five percent of fuel power goes to cloaking abilities every three hours or so. If we've been running this thing at full power for nine hours at twenty-five percent fuel swap, that means that seventy-five percent of our fuel will be gone. If we stopped the plane now, when the plane started up again the cloaking device would only be able to run at the maximum amount of fuel that was remaining, which was twenty-five percent. Twenty-five percent of cloaking ability won't help in a life-or-death situation or an infiltration."

Peter turned to Charles. "Baldy, can't we stop?"  
Charles turned to Peter with a slight frown. "I told you not to call me that, Peter."

"Come on, Wheelchair," Peter said, inhaling deeply. "Can't you stop this plane?"

Charles was about to turn back to Hank but paused. "Peter, is there something the matter?"

"I'm starving," Peter said through gritted teeth.

Peter was surprised, however, when Charles simply chuckled slightly. "I don't think you're emaciated yet, Peter. You practically eat me out of the Institute every day, consuming at least two tons of food at every meal. Five hours will be over soon enough. Then you'll be able to eat as much as a herd of blue whales."

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. How _dare_ Charles tell him that he was fine! Charles wasn't him! Charles didn't know about his speedster metabolism! Now both infuriated and fatiguing quickly from hungry, Peter walked over to his seat next to Erik's, not caring to expend extra energy and race over with his powers. He sat down, briefly worked a fingernail in-between his two front teeth, then took his hands away as he moved another chess piece.

If Peter had had a mirror with him, he might've seen how ghostly pale he was, and if he'd thought to inspect his stomach at the time of his immense hunger, he would've seen ribs becoming more and more visible with each passing second. Finally, it drew the attention of the rest of his team.

"Whoa, Pete," Scott said. "You don't look so hot."

Peter sent a glare of death over toward Scott. "Hungry," he muttered. He glanced over and saw Erik looking at him again, and he glared at him. "What?" he asked. "I just took my turn, Magnet. It's your turn now." Peter watched Erik blink once and return his focus to the chess board. Turning away from the chessboard, Peter stared at the wall of the plane, furious with everyone around him. Why couldn't any of his teammates help him? Didn't they see he was starving? Why had Hank lied about there being food on the plane, and why did Charles think it wasn't a big deal that he was famished? Would he really starve in the middle of half a dozen or so mutants? Did they just not see the danger, or were they all just —

"Charles, land this plane," Erik said suddenly.

"Didn't you listen to Hank? Besides that, we in a Russian forest, Erik," Charles said. "It's not like there's a landing pad ready and waiting for us."

"I told you to land this plane, Charles," Erik said.

"And I'm telling you, it's not going to happen. Peter can wait for his midday snack."

Erik sighed and got up, and Peter simply ignored Erik and rested his face on his fist. He couldn't take five more hours. He couldn't even take five more minutes. He could feel his metabolism starting to crash as it screamed for food yet got nothing. Why did everyone treat it as though it weren't that big of a deal? Didn't they know how his metabolism worked? For him, three hours without food was the same as two weeks for a normal individual! He could easily starve in a day! In four hours!

Out of nowhere, the plane lurched and stopped moving, and everyone was thrown to the floor. Peter, using both mutant powers and adrenaline, landed in a runner's starting position.

"What did we hit?" Raven asked.

"Are we being attacked?" Ororo asked.

Peter was already on his feet, seeing Erik in the center of the plane with his hands extended and confused as to why Erik hadn't fallen over as well. Almost instantly, Charles was out of the cockpit, yelling,

"Erik! Are you mad?"

"If you would care about the state of your team for one second, Charles, I wouldn't have to do this," Erik said.

"Just because one of us is a little bit peckish doesn't give you right to put us all in danger!" Charles shouted. "Going from one hundred thousand miles an hour to a complete standstill isn't something that's very safe!"

"Are you doubting my mutant abilities, Charles?" Erik asked as the plane began descending to the forest below.

"No, just your sanity," Charles muttered, rubbing his head and wincing a bit.

"Well then, that makes two of us," Erik said as the plane touched down. "I stop a plane; you refuse to help a teammate in need."

Peter thought he heard a bit of anger in Erik's voice, but he was too concerned about his immense hunger to care.

"Don't start with me, Erik. There's a big difference between actual need and just idle complaining."

"So Peter was just complaining?" Erik asked. "Not starving? Just like all the rest? It wasn't a real threat?"

"You crippled me!" Charles yelled. "You left me; left all of us!"

"And you didn't help a teammate when they needed you!" Erik shot back. "For being a mind reader you certainly don't pay attention! Just because you feel sorry for yourself, doesn't give you the right—"

"Oh, like you should talk about what's right!" Charles shouted. "You killed all those men—"

"—to abandon those who need you!" Erik roared. "Gone! All gone because you couldn't think, for one second, about anyone else except yourself! And after all these years, it's still the same? You're just going to let someone starve because you won't take what they say seriously? Are you still that selfish?!"

Peter looked up. He thought he could hear metal bending. Was the floor shifting?

"Peter's not starving!" Charles yelled. "He's just being a pain in the—"

Erik pointed over at Peter, and Peter raised his hand a bit before sitting down hard due to hunger. "Actually, Magnet's right," Peter said slowly. "My metabolism's . . . pretty fast, and if I don't eat every hour or so I'll"— Peter blinked hard to clear his vision, —"get pretty hungry."

Charles' face blanched when he saw Peter. "My goodness. Peter, you look — why didn't you tell me about this?"

"He did," Erik said, using his powers to forcefully open the ramp of the plane. "You just refused to listen."

Charles sighed, and he put his hands up in defeat. "All right, all right. I've been a real idiot. Not just stupid, but selfish as well. Forgive me, Erik, Peter. Hopefully I haven't caused irreversible damage already."

Peter, slowly getting up, tested his powers for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "Nope, you're good. Caught it just in time. Any longer and I'd be in a coma." He glanced over at Erik. "Thanks, Magnet."

Erik nodded, and then Peter was gone, speeding through the forest and already tasting something, _anything_ , on his lips. He'd even take vegetables at this point. Peter's nose alerted him to a smokehouse nearby, and instantly he was there, opening the door and grinning at all the smoked meats that were hung out. It was paradise, and within a blink, Peter had gotten his fill with a side of wild boar, some two hundred smoked sausages, and eighteen whole pheasant. After sighing once, he was gone and back in the plane, looking at both Erik and Charles and tapping one foot all the while. "Come on, hurry up. Don't we have to get out of here? Come on, come on. Let's go."

The plane took off a minute later. Peter sat back down and made another chess move while Erik and Charles continued talking.

"Hopefully next time you'll take a teammate's problem seriously," Erik said.

"Hopefully you'll give me a warning before you bring a plane going one hundred thousand miles an hour to a standstill," Charles said, rubbing his head again. "I think half of my powers went with that blow to my head."

"At least then our chess games will be fair," Erik said.

"Shut up." Charles, glancing one more time at Erik, went back into the cockpit and monitored the state of the plane as Erik and Peter continued their chess game.

"So, are you guys like friends or enemies?" Peter asked.

"Friends," Erik answered. Then he paused and changed his answer. "Both."

"It seems to me like you two run the gauntlet," Peter said as his bishop captured Erik's rook. "One moment you're like, buddies, then the next you're, well, doing that freaky plane thing."

"Such is the friendship between two mutants who don't see eye-to-eye on several very important topics," Erik said.

"Like turkey sandwiches," Charles called out from the cockpit.

Erik captured Peter's bishop with his knight. "It's an issue that rocked the world," he muttered.

Peter could hear Charles laughing, and everyone in the plane was laughing as well. Peter and Erik continued their game, and after the game was over, Peter blamed his chess loss on the hunger he'd felt and the poor start he'd had in the game. He said nothing, however, when he knocked over his king and they played again.

"Peter, if you're ever that hungry again, please let me know," Charles said as they returned to the mansion some time later and exited the plane.

Peter pulled an ear bud out of his ear, grinning and glancing over at Erik. "Hopefully next time you'll listen, or else Magnet here will have to get your attention."

"If it comes to that, can you get my attention a little bit less painfully?" Charles asked.

Erik shrugged. "I can't make any promises. Who knows? If you ignore one of us again, I just might . . . " Erik extended a hand, and Peter couldn't hold back his laughter as Charles' wheelchair lifted several feet into the air, wobbling once.

"Erik!" Charles yelled.

Erik set Charles back down, and Charles clutched his chest and glared at Erik.

"Now that you're done giving me a heart attack," Charles muttered, "I'm going to go eat something." Charles wheeled off.

"The kitchen's the other way, old friend," Erik called out.

Charles paused, blushed, then turned around and went the opposite direction, muttering a few words under his breath that caused Erik and Peter alike to laugh quite a bit.

"We'd better show him the way to the kitchen," Peter said, grinning and walking after Charles. "He might've forgotten with that blow to the head."

"I think you're right," Erik said.

Peter grinned again as the two of them walked after Charles, and he found himself glancing over at Erik for no real reason whatsoever. Erik caught his glance.

"What?" Erik asked.

Peter brought his head forward. "Nothing, Magnet," he said airily. Then he grinned again.


	15. Training

At seven o'clock sharp, Peter was out of his bedroom and racing down to the kitchen to eat breakfast. As he zoomed downstairs, Peter caught Scott walking down the hall. "Hey, Shades," Peter said, pausing a bit and falling into step beside Scott. "You know, your hair's getting kind of long. I think you need a haircut."

Scott glanced at Peter. "Are you volunteering?"

"No, but you could ask Red. I'm sure she'd be up for it."

Scott blushed a bit and glared over at him. "Shut up, Pete. Say anything like that to Red and I just might tell Erik a bit about you when you're not around."

Peter's eyes narrowed a bit. "Come on, it was a joke. I'm just giving you suggestions," Peter said, punching Scott a bit harshly on the shoulder. Then he was off and in the kitchen. He found only Raven and Erik in the dining room, but other mutants would soon appear.

Peter listened to Raven's and Erik's small talk as he made himself a dozen fried eggs then sat down with a gallon of orange juice and two dozen doughnuts. Too bad there wasn't any bacon in the fridge. "Morning Magnet, Blue. What were you guys talking about?"  
Raven shrugged. "Nothing much."

Peter was about to take a bite of a doughnut when the same smell he'd smelled before on Raven hit him. "Blue, do you always wear perfume?"

Raven scratched her arm, then shrugged. "Maybe you just haven't noticed it."

Peter couldn't help grinning. "I think somebody else needs to, first."

Raven glared daggers at Peter, but Peter casually avoided her stare and ate another three doughnuts. "So, Magnet, you used to live in Poland, right?"

Erik took a thin sip of the Earl Grey tea he always brewed himself each morning, nodding

"Was it nice living there?"

Erik's eyes clouded for a moment. "It was beautiful."

"Yeah? Did you have any family up there?"

Erik took another sip of tea, and Peter thought he saw Erik's hand trembling. "Yes, I did."

Peter nodded, feeling that he was charting dangerous territory. For a moment, he paused. Then Erik's hand stopped shaking, and Peter asked another question, despite the fact that he already knew the answer. "What'd you do there?"

"Worked at an iron foundry."

"I'll bet your powers came in handy," Peter said, laughing a bit.

Erik stiffened, and suddenly the light fixture over in the kitchen began to bend and twist out of shape. A few light bulbs exploded. Peter blinked in shock, then attempted to change the subject, realizing that he'd gone too far. "My powers came in handy when I wanted to race around the world and . . . " Peter glanced at Erik briefly, "ask where my dad was. That's how I learned Polish and German."

Raven was on the edge of her seat, and Peter was as well as Erik continued breathing hard. Finally, after several moments, Erik relaxed. He blinked once and looked at Peter. "Did anyone know where your father was?"

Peter shook his head. "No one knew. I guess he was lying low."

"Smart man. Mutants always have to stay in hiding," Erik said a bit callously.

Peter remained silent for a few minutes as he finished his gallon of orange juice and leaped up to get a can of pop. Taking a drink, Peter drew his finger around the rim of the can for a moment to steel his resolve before asking another question. "So . . . ever had a son?"

Erik frowned. "No."

Peter ate another doughnut to steel his gumption. "Ever think about what'd be like to have one?"

Erik glanced over at Peter, and it seemed to Peter that Erik kept his eyes on him for quite a long while. "Somewhat."

Peter glanced at Raven, wondering if she was giving him away subconsciously. But Raven merely kept her head down, not giving any indication that she had any idea what Peter was talking about.

"Yeah. My mom's got a son," Peter said. Then he laughed. "Well, me. Of course."

Erik blinked casually. "What's your name again?"

Peter frowned. Had his father forgotten already? Hadn't they been around each other for the past . . . what, three weeks? How could he forget? "It's Peter," he said, a bit frustrated.

"And your last name?"

"Maximo—" Peter slapped a hand over his mouth and blinked. What was wrong with him? His brain could move much faster than his mouth, but he was still speaking before thinking! "Maximum," he corrected. "It's Maximum. Yeah, that's it, all right." Peter looked over at Erik, and he could've sworn that he'd seen Erik's eyes narrow as he took another sip of tea. Whatever.

Wait a second, was Raven _laughing_?! Peter glared over at her, but she returned to her breakfast with no words on the subject. Well, at least Scott wasn't here.

"Hey, Pete!"

Dang it.

Scott made himself a sandwich and sat down next to Peter, and Peter gave Scott a warning glance as Scott began joining in on the conversation. Even though he'd made a passing comment about Jean just a few minutes previously, if Scott dared to bring up anything about why he and Erik had been spending so much time toge—

"Hey, do you always drink that tea in the morning?" Scott asked.

"Every day," Erik said, taking another drink.

"Is that a Poland thing?" Scott asked.

"No, it's a me thing."

Scott nodded, then turned to Peter. "So, Pete, how come you didn't do that rip thing to any of the Sentinels last night when they had me cornered?"

Peter shrugged, eating another doughnut. "Thought you could handle yourself, Shades. But if you need my help . . . "

"I don't need your help," Scott said.

"Then I'll just speed past you and let you deal with the Sentinels yourself."

"Maybe I'll hit you with my powers on the way just out of spite," Scott said.

"Like you could catch me," Peter said, smirking. "I'm the fastest person in the world. No one could catch me."

"Really?" Erik asked, setting his tea down. "What's your top speed per second?"

Peter turned to his father, surprised at the question. He shoved another doughnut into his mouth before answering. "All the way around the world, Magnet. Twenty-four thousand miles."

Erik nodded, then took another sip. "I'd like to test out your speed, Peter. Would you be interested in a training exercise tomorrow morning?"

Peter gasped, his heart leaped, and he nearly jumped up in excitement. Training with his father? Was this for real?! "Would I? Sure! Of course! What'll we be doing? What'll I be doing? What'll you be doing? When do I need to get up?"

"Five in the morning," Erik answered.

Raven and Scott audibly groaned at the thought, but Peter only nodded. "All right. I'll be up. I'll be ready. What'll we be doing?"

But Erik didn't answer. He simply finished his tea, rose, and clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Meet me outside on the running track. See you then." After that, Erik left the room.

Peter turned back to his breakfast and devoured his remaining doughnuts in less than two seconds. He glanced over at Raven and grinned, then looked at Scott and did the same thing. Then, wanting to burn off his excitement, Peter placed his ear buds in his ears, played "Living on a Prayer" and raced around the world six times, taking his sweet time at the wall of China before returning to the mansion and sitting back down at the dining table. He wondered what they would be doing; how they would be training. Erik had said that he wanted to test Peter's speed, but what did that mean? It couldn't be a race; Erik would lose no doubt. Would they be using some of Hank's technology? Or would it not be a test of physical speed at all? Would it instead be a battle of wit to test out Peter's mental speed in the realms of logic and intelligence? Whatever it was, Peter couldn't wait to find out.

Nightcrawler appeared in the room then, and Scott was so startled that he dropped his sandwich in his lap.

"Nice going, Shades," Peter laughed. "That was the highlight of my day right there."

"Come on, Pete!" Scott complained, picking up his sandwich and not even bothering to clean up his soiled clothes. "You're certainly fast enough! Why didn't you catch that?"

Peter put his hands behind his head. "You said you didn't need my help. Remember? Remember, Shades?"

"Did I do someving wrong?" Kurt asked, using his tail to grab an apple from the fridge before teleporting over to Raven's side.

"Not at all, Circus," Peter said. "In fact, I should give you a standing ovation."  
Kurt blinked. "Is vat a compliment?"

"You bet it is," Peter said.

Kurt nodded, grinning and showing a row of pointy teeth. "Vank you, Peter!" Before eating his apple, Kurt recited a bit of Psalms 23, then devoured his snack. "Are you and Erik getting avong?"

"Yup," Peter said, raising his eyebrows briefly as he got a dozen hamburgers from the fridge and sat back down. "We're going to do some training tomorrow morning."

"Vat is wonderful," Kurt said. "I never knew mine father."

"Lots of us didn't," Raven said. "You're actually pretty lucky to find him, Peter."

"And he doesn't even know about it, does he?" Scott asked.

Peter shook his head. "My mom never told him."

"Well, with a personality like that, I'm not surprised," Scott said. "He'd destroy the core of the earth itself if you got him mad enough."

"And I could move you fast enough so the molecular bonds holding your body together would break," Peter said.

"If I didn't vaporize you first."

"Like you could catch me."

"Wanna bet?"

"You're lucky I'm in such a good mood, Shades," Peter said. "Or else you might find yourself covered in water straight from the Arctic Ocean."

"I'm singing a song of thanks, all right," Scott said, finishing his sandwich. Then Scott reached over and punched Peter on the shoulder. "It's great that you and your dad are getting along, Pete. For real. My dad didn't like mutants very much."

"That's too bad, Shades," Peter said, grabbing a chocolate bar from the cabinet and giving half of it to Scott.

"Growing up in the circus allowed me no time to vink of my parents," Kurt said. "I never knew either von of vhem."

"At least your acrobat skills are on par with Blue's," Peter said. Hearing approaching footsteps, Peter glanced near the kitchen doorway and nudged Scott. "Hey, Shades, look who it is."

Scott glanced over his shoulder and blushed when he saw Jean enter the room. He looked down at his dirty clothes and frowned. "Man," he muttered, "she can't see me like this!"

"Hey, don't worry; I got it," Peter said. Instantly, Peter and Scott were standing out of Scott's room, and Scott, after recovering from his nauseous spell, gave Peter a grateful glance before disappearing into his room to change. Peter had time to run around the world fifteen times before Scott emerged again, now dressed in clean clothes and even smelling a bit of

cologne.

"Knock 'em dead, bro," Peter said, punching him on the shoulder.

Scott winced at the hit, then rubbed his shoulder. "Lighten up, will you? I don't want my

arm broken."

Peter supported Scott's neck, and in an instant they were back in the kitchen. Scott staggered forward, supporting himself on the counter as he recovered. "Just don't move, man," Peter said. "It helps to get over it faster."

Scott inhaled sharply, then glanced at Peter and nodded. After he recovered, Scott sat next to Jean and Peter sat opposite them beside Raven and Kurt. Almost immediately, Jean's head shot up and she looked at Peter.

"You and your dad are getting along well," Jean said, smiling. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, it's cool," Peter said casually, grabbing a bag of chips from the cabinet. "Hey, Static."

Ororo glanced over at Peter as she entered the room, pouring herself a glass of orange juice and joining the team. "Yeah?"

"It's not going to rain tomorrow morning, is it?"

"I don't think so," Ororo said. "Why do you ask?"

"Me and my dad are going to do some training," Peter said, and he caught the glance that everyone passed around the room. "Just wanted to make sure we wouldn't be rained out."

"Your skies will be clear, Peter," Ororo said. "Don't worry."

"Cool," Peter said, finishing his bag of chips. Then, wanting to see what Charles was doing since he hadn't appeared for breakfast, Peter was off. He raced through the mansion and found Erik and Charles outside, immersed a game of chess. Peter stopped behind his father, glancing over Erik's shoulder and inspecting his father's side of the board before racing around the table and inspecting Charles' as well. Then Peter zipped away to grab a popsicle from the freezer before returning to his spot behind Erik.

"Erik, I think you have a shadow," Charles said.

"Quite a fast shadow," Erik said.

"You want a popsicle, Magnet? There's also ice cream. Or some chips," Peter said, zipping twice around their table before stopping.

"I'm fine, Peter," Erik said, capturing one of Charles' pawns with his own.

"You sure you're not hungry?"

"No, thanks, but I can see that you are," Erik said.

"I'm always hungry," Peter said. "I'm gonna go eat. Want to come? Come on, want to come? Wanna come? All you had was tea. You can't actually be full, Magnet."

"I've seen enough of your eating habits already," Erik said. "I'm fine."

Peter shrugged, then turned to Charles. "What about you, Baldy? Do you want anything? Anything?"

"I'd like some hair," Charles said.

"Nope, sorry, Wheelchair. Can't give that to you." Then Peter caught Erik's eye and grinned. "Beat him. You've got hair."

"I'll keep that in mind," Erik said, capturing another one of Charles' pawns.

Peter nodded then was off, racing to China and eating at four Chinese restaurants before deciding to pick up a book in Chinese on how to play chess. He could read the language fairly well by now. He had spent two years in China, after all. Taking a bamboo-woven chair with him, Peter returned to the mansion, sitting down next to Erik and busying himself with reading through his book. He didn't want to spend the next hour quizzing his father; that was a one-way ticket to becoming very annoying. So he'd get even better at chess instead.

"Is that . . . Chinese?" Charles asked.

"Yup. Just picked it up," Peter said. "I learned Chinese while looking for my father."

"How long were you searching for your father?" Erik asked as he moved again.

"About ten years."  
"That's quite a long time."

"Tell me about it," Peter said.

"Then you just gave up?" Erik asked, glancing at Peter.

"No, I figured Charles here, with his round brain-thingy, could help me find him," Peter said.

"Yes, Charles is good at locating people and getting inside their heads," Erik said, a bit drily.

"And you're quite brilliant yourself, in the art of crippling people," Charles said.

Peter turned back to his book and continued reading, keeping half an eye on the chess game.

"Did you manage to locate your father with Charles' help?"

"Yup," Peter said, not really paying much attention as he continued reading.

"Really? What was your father's name?" Erik asked.

"Erik," Peter answered. Then, blinking and realizing his mistake, Peter struggled to correct himself. "Erik with a c," he said quickly.

Erik paused and began frowning, his hand stilled on a bishop.

"Yeah, he had the power of flight," Peter said casually, clapping a hand over his mouth when he realized his mistake. Now Erik was looking right at him with a calculated stare. Peter, looking back at Erik, didn't know what to do or say. Had he been caught?  
"Erik, I wanted to ask you something," Charles said, jumping in to interrupt at the perfect time. "A few weeks ago when you fought with the students in the danger room, you managed to obtain a fairly large piece of metal to take down the Sentinels. Where did you get that metal from?"

Erik finally turned away from Peter. "When I was working with Apocalypse, he showed me a way to get metal out of the ground itself. I did the same thing with the walls of the danger room."

"Fascinating," Charles said. "And now you're able to extract metal from anything?"

"That's subjective," Erik said. "I probably couldn't obtain any metal from a toothbrush, but the earth has quite a few metals that I'm able to extract."

Peter kept his attention on the book he was reading, not daring to say anything more. Stupid! Stupid! Why had he said those things?! Had he just told Erik the truth; had he given himself away? And if so, what did that even mean if he did?

But Erik didn't seem to be reacting as Charles had when Peter told him. Peter began to relax; maybe Erik still didn't know. If that were the case, Peter could thank his lucky legs. He'd made quite a few slip-ups already. It was practically a miracle that Erik, apparently, didn't know the truth yet. Peter wanted to keep it that way, at least for a little bit longer.

"Check," Charles said.

Erik sighed. "How am I supposed to concentrate with Peter practicing his Chinese?"

Peter, who'd been in the middle of mumbling out a Chinese character that he didn't understand, closed his mouth.

"Is that going to be your excuse when you lose?" Charles asked.

The two began arguing, and Peter brought the book closer to his face to hide a grin. Not only was his relationship to Erik still a secret, but he'd struck gold just a half hour ago. Tomorrow morning, he and his father were going to train! For real! How cool was that?!


	16. Slip Up

Peter's alarm went off at four thirty and he arose with a shout that probably woke up the entire mansion. Not really caring who he woke up, Peter raced outside to the running track, much too excited to sleep any longer and not really needing to, anyway. How was he supposed to? In only . . . !five minutes! he was going to train with his father. Maybe today, he could tell him. Maybe he could finally tell Erik the truth. Maybe the time had finally come. He vaguely wondered how Erik would react. Would it be surprise? Joy? Complete disbelief?

Peter's head shot up as the mansion door opened and out walked Erik in grey sweats. Erik glanced over to where Peter stood, not even seeming surprised to see that Peter was already there and waiting for him. Peter was next to Erik in an instant, and he rested an elbow on Erik's shoulder.

"So, Magnet, what are we going to do for training?" Peter asked. "You can't actually tell me that we're going to race, right? I could beat you with two broken legs. You and I both know that."

Erik didn't say anything. Instead, he faced east. "You like sunrises, Peter?"

Peter blinked. "Uh, sure. I guess." What did that have to do with anything?

"Good. Because when that sun rises"—Erik pointed to the eastern trees in the distance—"I want you to start running."

Peter frowned. "All right."

Erik turned to Peter. "You're going to try outrunning the sun."

Peter blinked several times, barely understanding. Sure, he could run fast, _really_ fast, but sunlight, heck, light itself, moved one hundred eighty six thousand miles a second. That was insane. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Erik looked at Peter again. "Can't you do it, Quicksilver?"

Peter frowned, then smirked over at Erik. "I would say watch, but you won't see me. When do you want me to go?"

Erik made a mark on the running track using the sole of his shoe. "When the light passes this point, start running."

"You got it." Peter took a runner's starting position as he waited for the sun's rays to hit the point specified. "So, Magnet, what'd you do after you left here last month? Where'd you live? What did you do? Why'd you come back?"

Erik watched the sun's rays peak over the tops of the trees. "I stayed a bit in Poland. I improved my abilities to wield metal. That's none of your business. Get ready now, the sun's starting to rise."

Peter was quite aware that Erik hadn't answered his third question. It didn't matter much, though. He'd already gotten that information some four weeks' previously. It was all right. Besides, he'd earn his father's trust eventually.

Maybe after he told him that he was his son . . .

"Go."

Peter blinked and took off, forgetting his thoughts and focusing all his concentration on his task. He had to do this; had to show Erik what the name Quicksilver really meant. But was it even possible for him to outrun the sun? For a moment, Peter hoped that it was. Then Peter saw the sun start to creep past him at faster and faster intervals, almost mocking him with its speed.

He hadn't run this fast ever, and as the sun fluidly raced ahead of him, Peter held back a groan of frustration. Could he really beat something that traveled seven times faster than himself? Was it possible? No, it had to be! He had to do this! There was no going back or giving up! He needed to prove to Erik that this was something he could do!

 _He had to try!_

Peter threw himself entirely into his running, wanting nothing else than to prove Erik . . . wrong? Right? He was _the_ Quicksilver; that, Peter knew. Now it was all or nothing. There was no in-between. Peter stretched his body to the limit, feeling as though he were dying. But then, way off in the distance like a beacon, Peter saw the edge of the sunlight. He was actually catching it! He was doing it!

Right at the point that the sunlight seemed to freeze, something in Peter's body gave out. His speed stopped abruptly, and Peter collapsed to the ground, nearly passing out from exhaustion. He'd never been this tired. Ever in his life. Not even when he'd seen how many times he could run around the world in ten seconds. Nope, that didn't even come close.

Sitting back and still catching his breath, Peter was quite glad that his body had given out on actual ground and not the Pacific Ocean. Man, was he thirsty . . .

Maybe this was what normal people felt like. Walking and staggering around from exhaustion. It was foreign to Peter. Being tired from running. But he must've done something incredible, because his body was punishing him at that moment. What were these sore, twitching muscles? What was this pain in his chest? What was this heaving breath?

He had to get back to the mansion. Peter oriented himself using the sun and took off toward the mansion, but it still took him a full sixty seconds to make it back to New York. Man, how tired was he?

Barely had he made it to the mansion's steps before Peter sat down, still catching his breath. He looked up as Erik walked over to him and handed him a water bottle. Peter, nodding, took the bottle and downed the entire thing in a second, thankful for water. Water was the best.

"Did you outrun the sun?" Erik asked.

"Yeah, I actually did it," Peter panted, coughing around his water bottle. "Just for a millisecond, I saw the sunlight freeze."

Erik nodded, and he clapped Peter on the back. "Good job."

Peter grinned through his tiredness, and Erik actually went back into the mansion and got Peter two more bottles of water.

"Thanks," Peter said, opening a fourth bottle. "You sure you don't want some?"

"You need it more than I do, Peter."

Peter drank it in a second, then stood up and stretched. "Well, that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

Erik nodded. "Charles did the same thing to me. He had me move that satellite."

Peter glanced over to where Erik was pointing, his mouth dropping open in shock. "You _moved_ that thing?"

"And you outran the sun," Erik said. "Looks like we've both accomplished something we thought we couldn't do."

"And now you're lifting submarines and pulling metal from the ground," Peter said.

"Soon you might be able to outrun the sun without even breaking a sweat," Erik said.

"But for now I'll just nearly die doing it," Peter said, now fully recovered from his feat.

Erik pulled a handgun out of his pocket and tossed it to Peter. "My turn to train. Shoot me."

Peter, having seen firsthand how adept his father was at bending metal back when they were up against Apocalypse, didn't even pause before he lifted the gun and began shooting rapid-fire at his father. Erik, his eyes widening briefly, shot up his hand to stop each bullet that came near him. "You didn't go easy on me," Peter said, zipping behind Erik and shooting at him again. "So I won't on you."

In less than a second, the clip was emptied, and Peter raced into the mansion to get more ammunition. Then he was back and again shooting the handgun he held. Erik stopped every single bullet that came near him, and after a few more seconds, Peter realized that this wasn't a challenge for Erik and threw the gun down on the ground.

"What's up, Peter?" Erik asked.

"This is too easy for you, Magnet," Peter said. "You can lift a submarine! You think a couple dozen bullets going a few hundred feet per second will actually be a challenge?"

"It was certainly startling," Erik said.

"You need a harder challenge." Suddenly, an idea came to Peter. He zipped back into the mansion and found a bulletproof vest in the danger room. Placing it onto his body, Peter returned to stand in front of Erik. "All right, Magnet. Now I've got a challenge for you."

Erik folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Pull me toward you."

Erik's eyes sparked in interest, then he lifted both hands and began pulling Peter toward him. Peter, feeling the bulletproof vest he wore dragging him toward Erik, started to use his own mutant powers to back up. Peter held himself in place, smirking over at Erik. "You didn't think I would go easy on you, did you, Magnet?"

"I assumed you would be a better training partner than Charles," Erik said, his voice strained as he continued trying pull Peter forward. "It's also good that you're not a cripple."

Peter laughed briefly. "Yup, this is the hardest game of tug-of-war in the world," he said, still remaining stationary. "Come on, Magnet. Win."

The pull on Peter's body intensified, and he was surprised to see his feet sliding forward a bit. Turning around, Peter faced himself away from Erik and began to run properly, surprised that he'd been forced into actually running. Maybe Erik was stronger than he thought.

Suddenly, the pull on his body tripled, and Peter had to begin running at full speed to prevent himself from sliding backwards. How could Erik actually put up that much of a fight? Peter felt his feet beginning to slide backwards, and he was astonished when Erik's powers finally won out against his own.

As Peter was pulled backward and tumbled to the ground, he blamed his loss on his exhaustion over outrunning the sun. Yeah, that had to be it. Glancing up at Erik, Peter gave his father a thumbs-up. "Hey, Lehn, awesome. You did it!"


	17. The Result

Erik had fallen to his knees in exhaustion, but after several moments he got back to his feet and grinned. Then abruptly, he looked over at Peter and began frowning. "What did you say?"

Peter blinked, horrified by what he'd just said. Why had he called his father by the nickname his mother had used? Was he just stupid or something? ". . . I said, hey, Erik, awesome."

"No, you said Lehn," Erik said. His eyes narrowed. "How do you know . . . " Erik froze for a moment, then looked at Peter again in confusion. Peter could almost see the connections being made inside his father's head as Erik's eyes flicked from side to side.

After what seemed like another ten years to Peter, Erik finally looked at him and only seemed to see him right at that moment. Peter could see the shock on Erik's face fade away to be replaced with understanding. Instantly, Peter was on his feet.

"Hey, Magnet, I—" But before Peter could say anything more, Erik left and raced into the mansion, leaving Peter alone. The move hurt. It stung and burned. Sure, Erik was probably shocked by this news, but to just leave him like that . . .

Peter shook his thoughts and emotions off and sped into the mansion, not really taking note of where he was running to. He wanted to give his father a bit of time to digest what he'd just learned, but Peter inwardly was kicking himself as he sat down on the couch in the mansion's living room. Why had he inadvertently told his father the truth? He should've waited longer! Why had he been so stupid! Didn't he know that Erik would freak out if he didn't wait long enough to tell him?

Whether or not he wanted the truth to come out, it just had. Peter would simply have to deal with the consequences. But the way Erik had looked at him after he realized the truth . . . it sent a ripple of concern and dread through Peter. Erik had looked shocked. Amazed, and almost disgusted. Not at all happy or joyous like Peter had hoped.

"Hey, Pete."

Peter looked over and raised his eyebrows in greeting, not even realizing that Scott, Raven, and Kurt had entered the room and now sat beside him. "Morning."

"How'd your training lesson go?" Raven asked.

Peter shrugged. "It went. I managed to outrun the sun."

"Vat is amazing," Kurt said.

"And Magnet managed to keep me from running by using his powers."

"Cool," Scott said.

"You don't sound very excited," Raven said. "Yesterday you were practically jumping off the walls."

Peter shrugged again. "I'm just tired from the training, that's all."  
At this, everyone exchanged a look, but Peter busied himself by obtaining a gallon of chocolate milk from the fridge and drinking it so that he wouldn't have to answer any questions. Peter had just finished the gallon when Jean entered the room and sat down, looking directly at Peter after a moment.

Jean seemed to soften a bit. "So, he found out during your training lesson."

Peter had to hide his exasperation. Of course she would know. She read minds. Great, now everyone would know. Why was this always happening to him? "Yup, he did," he said brusquely.

"Whoa, really?" Scott punched Peter on the arm. "So the secret's out! Way to go!"

"Did he take it vell?" Kurt asked.

Peter shrugged. "It didn't really mean to tell him; it was an accident. I called him a name that my mom used to call him when they were dating, and he just put the pieces together."

"And how did he take the news?" Raven asked.

"I don't know," Peter said. "He kinda freaked. I haven't really gone and talked to him to see how he took it."

"I'm sure I'd freak out, too," Scott said.

Peter nodded, absentedmindedly working a fingernail in between his teeth before quickly withdrawing his hands.

"You're not worried, are you?" Raven asked.

Peter blinked, then smirked. "No, way. I'm Quicksilver, Blue. I don't get worried." Peter caught Jean looking in his direction for a few moments, but he just ignored her. Why should they know the truth?

"I'm sure it's fine, Pete," Scott said. "Once your dad gets over the shock, he'll be—"

All speech and thoughts of conversation halted as the sounds of yelling came down the hall and into the living room. Peter glanced over at the rest of the team, seeing that they were all worried yet trying to hide it with forced smiles. As the noise intensified, Peter recognized the voice that was yelling as Erik's, and that sudden feeling of dread returned to settle in the bottom of his stomach, causing him to swallow twice.

"It's probably no big deal," Scott said.

"Erik and Charles argue all the time," Raven said.

For a moment, no one said anything, then Kurt broke the silence.

"I know how to play Schafkopf. Vould anyone like to learn?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, come on, Pete. You learned chess in eight hours," Scott said. "This'll probably take you five minutes."

Peter, knowing full-well what his friends were up to, couldn't take it a second longer. He didn't want to stay here with his friends; he had to know what Erik was arguing with Charles about. Instantly, Peter was up and off toward the sound of the argument. As he drew closer to the noise, Peter found his worry intensifying. The way Erik had looked at him had been bad enough. Now he was yelling, practically screaming, about something Peter couldn't yet understand, and it sent a distraught wave of panic over him. He swallowed twice more, then put his head back, inhaled deeply, and blinked hard to keep his emotions in check. Maybe it was nothing, really. Maybe it was just another stupid argument.

If only Peter believed that.

As he came to the site of the argument, Peter stopped and hid behind the end of a hallway, his ears easily picking up the conversation that was occurring no more than two dozen feet away. He closed his eyes and listened.

". . . don't you understand, Charles? I _can't_!" Erik yelled. "After all that's already happened, there's no way I would—"

"Just give it a chance!" Charles shouted back. "Maybe this is what you really came back for and you just didn't realize it until now!"

"I know why I came back, Charles, and it wasn't for this," Erik said.

Peter listened, his wariness intensifying the longer he listened. Were they actually talking about him? He couldn't tell.

"How do you know that?" Charles asked. "Think about the good inside you—"

"What good?" Erik's voice was now getting louder again. "Horrible circumstances seem to enjoy following me around regardless of what I do or how I try to change! How—"

"That wasn't your fault, Erik. Don't do this."

"Wasn't it?!" Erik was screaming now. "Do you know how painful it is to be holding your wife and daughter in your arms and knowing that it was _your fault_ that they died?"

"I know your pain, Erik. I feel it," Charles said. "I know it—"

" _You don't know pain like that_!"

Peter suddenly felt the ground shift underneath his feet, and Peter, losing his balance, stepped forward and into view of Erik and Charles. He saw that Erik and Charles were nose-to-nose, screaming at each other, and the entire hallway seemed to be bending out of shape as Erik's powers took over.

In an instant, Erik and Charles looked up and saw Peter standing there. Erik's eyes widened when he saw Peter, and Peter thought he saw his father's eyes soften for just a moment. But maybe it was just a trick of the light, because Erik's eyes hardened no less than a second later.

"H-hey, Magnet," Peter said, grinning briefly before looking down at the ground. "What's going on?"

Erik looked at Peter once more before turning away with an exasperated sound. "Stay out of my way, Peter," he growled.

Peter tried to stay calm and detached, but the inflection within his father's voice struck something deep inside him and caused his lips to tremble. "About what I said, I just—"

Instantly, Erik rounded on Peter and rushed him. Using his powers, Erik pulled a metal support beam from the wall itself, stripping one end to a point and holding it up to Peter's throat.

"Erik, please. Don't," Charles said.

Peter, his eyes wide, tilted his body away from the javelin that was now pressing into his throat. Not enough to puncture the skin, but with a single movement, Peter could find himself in a lethal situation with a punctured jugular vein. He placed both hands on the bar in front of him and stared at his father, blinking hard to keep his emotions in check. "Did I do something wrong, Magnet?" he whispered. "Are you just mad at me for beating you at chess? Is that it? Is that it, or do you just wish I wasn't around to get in your way?"

For another instant, Erik's eyes flashed, and behind the rage that Erik seemed to be displaying, Peter could've sworn that he saw something . . . different. But what was it that he saw?

"Stay away from me, Peter," Erik growled. "I don't ever want to talk to you again. Understand?"

Peter blinked hard and swallowed once. "Yes, Erik."


	18. Goodbye

Then Erik turned and walked off. The beam pressed against Peter's neck fell to the floor, and Peter was left standing alone. The only other person who still remained was Charles. Peter glanced over at Charles, and Charles moved toward him.

"Peter," Charles said, his eyes sad, "I'm so sorry—"

Peter turned away, mumbled something under his breath, then was gone. He didn't want sympathy or empty words of comfort. All he wanted to do was get away and be alone, and so Peter ran. Out of the mansion and across the sea, collapsing somewhere in an uninhabited portion of the Russian forest. He'd thought he'd planned everything out so carefully, but now it was all falling apart. Erik hated him. Great. Wonderful.

Maybe it was just stupid of him to believe that he and his father could have some sort of meaningful relationship. They hadn't had any contact for Peter's entire life. To think that that could suddenly change was just a hopeful dream. Peter took his music and listened to "Head Games" about fifteen times in a row before getting up and considering his next move.

Should he go home? Should he return to his mother? The thought of going home, licking his wounds, caused him to bristle. He'd be proving to her that she was right; that Erik really was no father. That option was out for Peter. Unless he actually needed to return home, or chose to just to check on his mother and sisters, he wouldn't choose that option.

Should he go back to the mansion? Sure, Erik was still there, but Peter could always avoid him. That, and he was part of his team. And he had many friends there. Who cared about Erik anyway? He wasn't important. Their recent fight didn't matter to Peter.

No, it didn't.

In a blink, Peter was back in the mansion's kitchen, ravenous beyond belief. Food was good; food was always good. Peter made himself fifty hamburgers for lunch and ate until his stomach hurt, hoping this would take his mind off his emotional pain. Nope. It didn't matter, not really. He didn't even like his father.

Footsteps behind him caused Peter to turn, and he saw Jean standing behind him, her expression the same as Charles had been.

"Oh, Peter," she said, reaching out to him.

"Don't read my mind, Red," Peter growled, evading her easily and eating another hamburger before walking out of the kitchen. Why did everyone want to comfort him? Couldn't they just pretend like nothing had happened, which was what he wanted? Couldn't they just act like nothing was different?

"Hey, Pete," Scott said.

"Hey, Shades. What's up?"

Scott scratched his neck. "I heard what happened. It's the worst."

Why did this keep happening to him? Sighing a bit, Peter looked away, gritting his teeth. "You got that right."

"I was gonna eat lunch. You game?"

Peter blew him off. "I ate fifty hamburgers already."

"Okay, cool. Later."

Peter continued walking, trying to stay upbeat as he made his way down the hall. But it was so hard. He felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. Why did Erik seem to hate him? What had he _done_? It wasn't his fault that he was Erik's son . . .

"Peter."

Peter turned, sighing as he recognized Charles' voice. "I don't want to talk, Wheelchair."

"I don't want you to talk; just listen," Charles said, approaching Peter. "Peter, I know you're hurting. But all is not as it seems. I talked to Erik just now and—"

"I don't want to _hear about him_!" Peter screamed. "He hates me, and I didn't even do anything!" In a blind rage, Peter punched the wall next to him and put quite a large hole in the structure.

"Peter, please hear me out."

Peter shook his head. "I don't want to hear anything about him. Just stop."

"Peter . . . "

"No!" Then Peter took off, exiting the mansion and crossing the lake in the backyard before stopping and sitting down on the ground. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? Why did they have to do this, treat him like they knew what he was feeling and try to make it better? Couldn't they all just leave him be? Talk about something else? The weather? The news? Of course not. They just had to keep bringing up thoughts and feelings that Peter would rather throw into a dungeon and lock away for all eternity.

Peter sat back and put his hands on the ground as he stretched out. As his hands pulled at the grass beside him, Peter felt something cool and hard at his fingertips. Frowning, he inspected it and saw that it was a German half dollar coin. A Reichsmark from 1939 Nazi Germany, to be exact. It was stained and brown, almost as if . . . wait, wasn't this Erik's?

"Peter."

Peter glanced up, then immediately returned his gaze to the ground, clenching his fists in anger. Why was Erik here? What did he want? "Go away," he muttered.

"Peter, I—"

Peter was up in a flash, glaring at his father. "Oh, so _now_ you want to talk?" he snarled. "Is that it, Magnet? Huh? Is it? And after practically threatening to kill me, you think I'll listen?!" As Peter's gaze connected with Erik's, he noticed that Erik's eyes were a bit red at the corners and that his vision looked glassy. Peter, however, felt no sympathy for Erik. What he felt instead was vindictive pleasure. Yes, let him be in pain! Let him feel it; let him know!

"Peter, I want to talk—"

"You specifically told me to stay away from you and never to talk to you again. That's just what I'm doing. Besides, you've already said enough," Peter growled in bitterness. He bent over and picked up the coin from the ground, showing it to Erik. "This is what you're here for, right? Yeah, I know it is, so take it and go. You certainly care about it more than your _family_ , anyway. At least you keep it safe in your pocket instead of threatening it with a homemade javelin."

Erik took a step forward. "Peter, don't—"

"No, Erik, you don't," Peter said. "Just take it and leave." He threw the coin at Erik, and for once the coin didn't levitate and simply dropped to the ground.

"Peter, listen—"

No, he didn't want to listen. Erik hadn't heard him out, so why should he do the same? He'd threatened him. Erik was no father; Peter didn't want to be his son. "I hate you." The words were out of Peter's mouth before he could stop them. Not that he cared. But seeing Erik's reaction almost made Peter wish he hadn't said it. Somehow, as Peter stared back at his father, he found himself becoming emotional as well. He drew his lips inward to stop them from shaking. No, he couldn't do this. Erik had threatened him and hadn't cared. Peter didn't care, either.

Turning away from his father, Peter blinked hard, then put his goggles over his eyes to cover it up. No, he didn't care. He couldn't; not anymore. Unable to stay any longer, Peter simply did what he was made for. He ran. Past the mansion and across the Atlantic Sea, all the way to the tip of Greenland.

Now on an ice floe, Peter sat down and growled out his frustration. Yeah, he was Quicksilver, all right. Half of the time he was too slow to get anywhere, and the other half of the time he was reacting too fast and getting himself into situations he barely managed to get out of. But this time, there was no turning back. He'd said three words that he could never take back. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

It was stupid of him, really. To think that he could stay at the mansion. Now that he'd had a "proper" conversation with Erik, Peter knew that it would be too much for him to stay around his father. The emotions were too strong; he had to leave. It was almost ironic. He'd been searching for his father for the last ten years, and now Peter was the one who was going to disappear. It was just too painful.

His team would be fine without him. Erik hadn't wanted him around, anyway. It would be better this way.

He hated it. _Hated it_. He'd tried so hard to befriend Erik. For a short while, he'd even believed that they were friends. Heck, this morning they _had_ been friends. They'd trained together. But then Peter had let his secret slip or something. Maybe it'd been something Peter himself had said; maybe someone else had told Erik something, like Charles. Maybe Erik just hated the thought of having a son. What kind of father threatened his son, anyway? No matter how Peter felt, he and Erik were now enemies. That was certain.

Erik had become enraged at Peter and had threatened his life. Peter, some hours later, had responded in kind. Now there was no going back; the damage was done. Erik hated him, didn't want to see him, and didn't want to talk to him ever again.

Peter had no father anymore. There was no reason for him to stay. He didn't want to be around Erik, and Erik felt likewise. It would be easier for him just to leave.

In an instant, Peter was back in the mansion. He first entered the kitchen, eating five dozen sandwiches before turning around and seeing that Scott, Raven, Jean, and Kurt had paused eating lunch and were now all silently staring at him.

"Hey, Pete," Scott said. "What's up?"

"Just eating some lunch," Peter said, eating another five sandwiches.

Jean took another drink of water, then gasped. "Peter! You're leaving?"

Man, mind-readers were annoying. She was almost as annoying as Wheelchair.

"Wait, you're leaving permanently?" Scott asked. "What about the team?"

"Is vis because of your faver?" Kurt asked.

Peter blew them all off. "I'm just going to China for a month to do some more . . . chess studying. It's no big deal; don't worry about it. I'll be back before you guys even blink." Then Peter was gone and in his room. Wonderful, now Jean would tell everyone that he'd been lying. Then they would all gang up on him and try to force him to stay. Well, that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to be forced to remain in a situation he wanted to be a part of no longer. No one could stop him, anyway.

Peter packed up all his belongings into a bag and sighed. Within the last few months, this place had become his second home. It was painful, really. Being forced to say goodbye on such short notice and on such bad terms. Well, not with his friends . . . but still. Maybe if he tried really hard, he could remain. Stay here.

No, he couldn't. He'd tried to get along with Erik and failed. He couldn't stay here, not with his relationship to Erik cutting into him like a sword. Sure, he was Quicksilver, and that made him a little bit, well, like Quicksilver, but he'd tried _so hard_ to get along with and become friends with Erik.

He'd been funny, and affable . . . and . . .

A knock on the door startled Peter. Sniffing once and blinking hard, Peter hid the bag he'd packed his clothes in and opened the door to his bedroom.  
"Peter, please, I want to talk to you," Charles said.

Peter almost slammed the door in his face. Of course mind readers were linked to other mind readers. It'd probably taken Jean half a second to transmit the news of Peter's leaving to Charles. "I'm busy, Wheelchair. Don't wanna talk."

"Peter, just because Erik and you had a bit of a disagreement—"

Peter hated the light tone that Charles was using. "Bit of a disagreement?" he growled. "He tried to kill me! He hates me!"

"Peter, you don't understand. I talked to Erik. I went inside his mind, and I saw—"

"I don't want to know what was inside his mind!" Peter yelled. "Actions speak louder than words, okay?! Whatever he was thinking wasn't how he was acting!"

Here Charles laughed a bit. Peter hated that laugh.

"Peter, please listen. Erik was only trying to—"

"No, I get it," Peter snarled. "You and him are best friends, right? So you're just standing up for what he did."

"Don't say that, Peter," Charles said, suddenly very adamant. "I would never stand up for wrongdoing."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Right. Just like him and Apocalypse. You kept trying to bring him back. Some good that did."

"Peter, I believe that there is hope for everyone. For every failed human and mutant. For every failed relationship. And let me tell you this, there _is_ hope for you and your father—"

"Shut up!" Peter yelled, his fists suddenly shaking. "There's no hope for me and Erik, okay?! Just let me leave! Just let me get out of here!"

"Peter, you can always start again—"

"He said he never wanted to talk to me again and threatened me!" Peter said, his voice cracking a bit as it rose. Let the entire mansion hear him. He didn't care. "I told him I hated him! You can't take those things back!"

"Peter, please. Don't leave. Stay a few more days. Talk to Erik."

"I can't," Peter said, shaking his head. "I'm leaving tonight. You can't stop me, Wheelchair."

Charles sighed. "I know, Peter. But if you leave before talking this through with Erik, you'll regret it."

"I won't regret this," Peter said, putting his goggles over his eyes.

"All right, Peter," Charles said. "I guess this is goodbye."

"I guess it is," Peter said.

"Say goodbye to your friends before you leave, all right?"

Peter frowned a bit. No, his friends wouldn't convince him to stay. Nothing would. Peter nodded curtly, then raced through the mansion, finding the entire team in the living room.

"So you really are leaving," Scott said.

Peter nodded. "I'm leaving tonight."

"Are you sure it's really worth it?" Ororo asked. "He's your father. Can't you fix—"

"He threatened me," Peter said. "I don't want to fix that."

"He threatened me, too," Raven said. "I'm still around."

Peter looked at Raven for a few seconds, then shook his head. He had to get out of here. He had no other choice. "I'm leaving tonight, guys. Just wanted to say goodbye before then."

"Things are gonna be slow without you," Hank said.

Peter laughed a bit. "You'll get used to it, Furry."

"Are you sure you can't stay?" Jean asked. "Maybe we could get Erik and—"

" _No_." The thought horrified Peter. Like he and Erik could somehow reconcile on the basis of peer pressure. Yeah, right. "I already said I'm leaving tonight. So, I'm leaving."

"Are vou going to say goodvye to Erik?" Kurt asked.

Here Peter laughed coolly. "There'd be no point."

"Peter," Jean said, "I think it would be good if you talked this over with Erik—"

He didn't _want_ to talk to Erik anymore! It would only make it harder to leave! But it was even harder to stay! What was he supposed to do?! "I already talked to Wheelchair about it. He says that I can leave. I don't need to talk to Erik."

"I think you should talk to him," Jean said.

"No," Peter said. "I don't need to."

"Don't need to, or don't want to?" Scott asked.

Peter swallowed. "I'm saying goodbye. So, goodbye."

"All right," Jean said. "Goodbye."

"Later, Pete," Scott said.

"May peace go vith you," Kurt said.

Everyone else was in the middle of saying goodbyes as well, but Peter, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, left before his emotions got out of hand. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't he just leave and be done with it? Why did he have to care?

He returned to his room and almost considered calling the whole thing off and unpacking. He wanted to leave, but he didn't. He wanted to reconcile with his father, but he couldn't. Peter was at an impasse, unsure of what to do or even think.

He was Quicksilver, for goodness' sake! He could think at a million miles an hour! Why was a simple two-way decision proving harder than even running faster than the sun?

He'd done it, though, outran the sun for just a moment. Erik had seemed so proud . . .

No! He was doing it again! Erik had threatened him! His father _hated_ him! Why would he want to stay around that?

Why did he want to stay?

Peter stopped listening to "What's on My Mind," sat up from his bed, and looked around his room. He had to leave. Now. He couldn't stay any longer. Without thinking much about it, Peter got up, grabbed his bag of clothes and other essentials, and walked out of his room. At least it was late and everyone was asleep by now. That way, no one would bother him or force him to stay. That was what he wanted, anyway.

Probably.

The mansion was quiet as Peter walked into the kitchen, having one last meal before walking out the front door. He didn't know why he was taking his time with his cheeseburgers, slowly eating each bite, but soon his meal was over. He faced the mansion doors, looking around once before placing his goggles over his eyes.

Goodbye, mansion. Goodbye friends, Charles, and . . . dad.


	19. Final Farewell

"Peter."

Peter turned, startled to see Erik sitting in a nearby chair and silently watching him. How had he not seen Erik there before? Peter turned away and looked toward the mansion doors again. It was both welcome and unwelcome. Peter, at the same time, wanted it and didn't. "Did Wheelchair put you up to this?"

"No, Peter. I'm here of my own free will."

Peter kept his eyes on the mansion's door. "Who told you?"

"Charles."

"So he did put you up to it." Peter knew that in an instant, he could be halfway around the world. Why, then, was he staying and having a conversation with Erik? Why was he being held back from leaving? Erik couldn't prevent him from leaving, even with his powers Peter could probably break free. Neither could Charles . . .

"So you are leaving," Erik said.

Peter huffed once. He'd never had this problem before. He was trying to force his legs to run out of the mansion, but they wouldn't move! What was wrong with him? "I thought you'd be gone before I was, Magnet."

"Why would I leave before you?" Erik asked.

"Because you never cared long enough to stick around," Peter said, spitting out the words a bit too harshly.

"It wasn't why I came back, Peter," Erik said, standing up, "but it might've made me stay."

Yeah, right. Peter laughed at this. "I'm your son. But right about now I wish I wasn't!" Peter didn't care the way Erik's expression twisted. All he wanted to do was leave before his own emotional state forced him to stay.

Erik blinked hard, but Peter looked away. "I know, Peter. I'm sorry for what I did; I shouldn't have overreacted."

Overreacted! Was that all it was to Erik? How stupid was he? "That's all it is to you? What about when you left Magda?" Peter growled.

"I didn't know, Peter!" Erik yelled. "I didn't know she was with child!"

"And after you knew, you threatened your own son!" Peter yelled. "I actually thought you cared! But I was wrong!"

Erik blinked. "What makes you think I don't care, Peter?"

"Gee, I wonder," Peter snarled. "Maybe the steel bar you pressed into my neck? You know, I don't know what I did to make you want to kill me, but—" Peter thought he heard metal somewhere nearby begin to bend. He glanced over at Erik, shocked to see his expression of disbelief.

"Is that what you think, Peter?" Erik asked.

"No, that's what I know!" Peter shouted. Why was Erik doing this? Pretending like he didn't know his own motives behind all the pain he'd already put him through . . . yeah, right! "Because when someone puts a steel bar to my neck like a javelin, I've got a mind to think that they're trying to kill me! I know you hate me, okay? So just let me leave!"

Erik stepped backward. "I wasn't trying to . . . Peter, I don't hate you."

Talk about the revelation of the century. Peter heard the words, blinked once, blinked again, then paused to make sure he'd heard correctly. No, it was a lie. It had to be. Peter's eyes narrowed. "Then why did you tell me to stay away from you?"

Erik closed his eyes, and Peter almost wished he hadn't asked the question when he saw Erik's next expression.

"Peter," Erik whispered, "It was my fault. Everyone I've ever befriended has . . . Charles, he can't walk. My wife and Nina . . . it was _because of me_! Don't you understand? I was trying to protect you!"

Peter stood in front of Erik, his mouth opened slightly in surprise. Was Erik really saying what he thought? Was this for real? Peter swallowed once. "Does that—"

"Yes, Peter," Erik said. "I was trying to keep you safe from all the bad circumstances that seem to follow me around like a plague. I figured that, if you got close enough to me, then the same thing would happen again. Something horrible would happen and you would end up hurt or worse. You think I'd want my one son to go through the same things that others have gone through? That I've practically _caused_ to happen to them?"

The bag Peter was holding dropped to the floor. So it was true. Erik didn't hate him. He actually cared enough . . . enough to . . .

"I was angry at myself, at what I'd let happen to my family and friends," Erik muttered. "So I foolishly pushed you away. I told you to stay away from me because I didn't want to see you hurt, Peter."

Peter swallowed. "I can't get hurt, Magnet."

Erik smiled a bit and nodded wryly. "Of course you can't, Peter."

"If you wanted me to stay away from you, why'd you try to talk to me later?" Peter asked.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment. "Charles confronted me. Told me that I wasn't helping to keep you safe and that pushing you away without a proper explanation was the same as letting you die."

Well, that was true. Though he hated it when Charles interfered or tried to help, maybe this was for the best. "But I didn't listen," Peter breathed.

"I don't blame you," Erik said, shrugging. "I wouldn't have listened, either." Here Erik glanced at the ceiling briefly. "I rarely do."

So that's all it'd been. A misunderstanding. Erik hadn't meant it when he said he wanted to never talk to him again. He didn't hate him. Erik didn't hate his son. "I don't hate you," Peter blurted out.

Erik laughed. "I know, Peter." Then he frowned again and motioned to Peter's bag that lay on the ground. "I just wanted to tell you before you left."

Peter glanced at his bag on the ground and picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder. He looked at Erik, then to the bag on his shoulder. "Y-yeah."

Erik nodded. "Goodbye."

Peter opened his mouth to say farewell, then snapped it shut. What was he doing? Was he crazy or something? Here he and Erik had finally reconciled, and he was even considering walking out that door?! "You know what? I . . . think I'll pass."

Erik's eyes widened, but Peter saw them glow briefly even in such dim lighting. "Really?"

"Yeah. I've been to China a dozen times already. Pretty boring. I've been everywhere, so there's nowhere I can go that would be interesting. It's more fun to annoy Wheelchair, anyway. And hang with my friends." In a blink, Peter threw down his bag and raced to the kitchen to made two turkey sandwiches. He returned to Erik and held a sandwich out to him. "Want one?"

Erik nodded, then took the sandwich and began eating. "So you've decided to stay."

Peter nodded, taking a bite of his own sandwich. "What about you?"

"I'll stay for a little bit longer," Erik said airily. "At least until you're able to outrun the sun."

Peter grinned without showing his teeth. "You know, Magnet, my last run might've been a onetime thing. A fluke. It could take me a long time to be able to run faster than the sun. Years, even."

"Then I guess I'll be here for a while," Erik said, touching Peter's own sandwich with his own as a toast before taking another bite.

"I guess you will." Peter was about to say more, but quiet cheering directed both his and Erik's attention to Charles' study off to their left. Peter saw several faces poking out of the room quickly withdraw, then he glanced over at Erik. "Did you know about this?"

Erik was frowning. "Come out here, all of you."

Peter watched as all his teammates came out the study, and he was surprised to see that Charles was the last person to exit. Wow, talk about an audience.

"I'm quite glad to hear that you're not leaving, Peter," Charles said. He was practically beaming.

Jean nodded. "We all are."

Peter looked around, then snorted. "There's no such thing as privacy around here, is there?"

"Sorry, Pete," Scott said, reaching out and bumping fists with him. "We just had to know if you were leaving or not."

"Great to know I've got so many friends," Peter said, grinning a bit.

"Seems to me that they're more like enemies," Erik muttered. "Charles, I'm surprised at you."

Charles blinked innocently. "I was just making sure my students were staying out of trouble."

"And getting yourself into trouble at the same time," Erik said, a bit drily.

"I thought that was my job," Peter said. "At least, that's what my mom always said."

"I can believe it," Erik said. "With your speed, you'd be able to get into trouble about one hundred times faster than a normal human."

"And annoy me about one hundred times faster," Charles said.

"At least it gives me something to do," Peter said, grinning.

"And it keeps all of us entertained," Erik said, grinning as well.

"Shove off, both of you," Charles said, groaning slightly.

"By the way, Magnet," Peter said, rushing to the kitchen and returning with a slice of pizza, "I thought up another nickname for you."

Erik blinked. "Really? What's that?"

Peter grinned. "Dadneto." Then he was off, in the kitchen again preparing himself a dozen hot dogs. If Peter had turned around, he would've seen a smug expression on Charles' face and a slight sigh from Erik.

"At least it's better than Dadneto," Charles said.

"Shut up," Erik groaned.

Peter returned and passed around the hot dogs he'd made. No one got much sleep that night, but it wasn't a big deal at all for Peter. The others had a bit of trouble staying awake, but sleep could always come later. For now, Peter was happy. Ecstatic, really.

Because now, Peter was surrounded by friends, family, and food. What was better than that?

 **The End**


End file.
